


Hurricane

by Heavydirtys0ul



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Asexual Character, Disclaimer: Ryan Ross is a lovely person I don't think he'd ever do anything mentioned i the story, Josh really doesn't, M/M, Mentioned abuse but not in the actual story, Multi, Questioning character, Tyler really likes sex, hypersexual characters, hypersexuality due to abuse, joshler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Heavydirtys0ul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler was a hurricane, and Josh knew it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurricane

_“I’m a wanderess, I’m a one night stand,_

_Don’t belong to no city, don’t belong to no man,_

_I’m the violence in the pouring rain,_

_I’m a hurricane,”_

* * *

 

Tyler was a Hurricane, and Josh knew it. There was no way that boy could be tied down by pretty roses and sweet words; Tyler Joseph was a mixture of dirty sex and self-rolled cigarettes, and nothing, not anything, could hold that boy to one thing. Like a flash of lightening he was everywhere, penetrating hearts and skin and minds until all that beheld of him were 3 billion people ideas of him. Who was he, really? Not even the crimson haired man, who prided himself in knowing and loving his best friend over everyone, could not tell you the answer. Those eyes were dark with a life left behind, of abusive words and bitter promises that ended in tears. Those lips, so heavily bitten by strangers in the night, had spoken tales of broken hearts and never ending hatred. That skin, blemished with lust had been stained with other bruises in times gone by. “He doesn’t talk about it,” It’s no lie, Tyler was mystery, a flood from Heaven, no one can tell is a blessing or a curse.

Josh knows Tyler is beautiful, he tells him days and days into eternity that he is stunning; and yet, by whatever grace divine may exist, the singer doesn’t notice the whispers of ‘I love you,’ and ‘I want you to love me,’ in the undercurrents of every compliment. Josh knows that he wants to press kisses against his tattoos and feel his skin melt under his fingers until they are unified by the one idea that Josh isn’t that past, Josh will not beat bruises into such beauty until he is scarred and worn and on the edge of giving up. That crimson haired boy looked upon their best friend with love and pain, knowing that he will forever hurt, and by domino effect, the drummer will ache also.

“Tyler,”

His name is like lemon and honey, this bittersweet texture soothing his anxiety like a common cold; whenever there’s a problem, Tyler’s name becomes a prayer on his lips and every sin is committed under the idolatry of someone who could’ve been, should’ve been and never will be his lover. He smells of smoke. Josh calls it being awake. Tyler lies with the smell of some herbal remedy that couldn’t be legal in every country that he smokes it in; there’s a glint in his eyes and the smell of sex and weed climbs up the walls and over the half-naked form of his bandmate. Josh blinks, eyes tracing the lines of tattoos with his body, and wishes he could reach out and paint them with his fingertips, mouth, engulf them as he takes Tyler in his arms, but settles for the caramel of his eyes. “Hey,” It’s a reply that’s echoed like a dull, insulated cave and the trail of smoke dances after it like a firework.

“I’m tired,” Tyler finally speaks, sitting up. There’s a bruise on his neck and Josh can’t tell if he’s been kissed or strangled, the crimson haired boy shivers and looks away. Sex is the last thing he wants from Tyler, there’s only some days he can look at sex and think the idea is good at all. But he wants Tyler. Wants his heart, his kisses, and his laughter; his hands on his own and his mind open and exposed instead of thoughts entrapped.

“I’m exhausted,” Somehow Josh doesn’t think he means physically as he sits beside him, watching the smoke as it danced against the ceiling. He’s heard these bed springs creak at night with the moans of him and some other forever for the couple of hours; lying in this bed doesn’t seem so appealing when he’s heard that. The ceiling has stars on it, and Josh thinks he’d spend so much time staring at the stars instead of fucking anybody. There’s one of many reasons why they were two jigsaw puzzles from the same piece yet not destined to ever connect properly. Like Josh’s piece was worn, misshapen, broken.

Josh only knew love through sweet flowers and heartbreaks and crying himself to sleep because the feeling of being touched between his legs felt too weird, too strange, and had so little appeal to him. He felt so odd. He got told he was odd too, very often. Tyler had said it a few times. But Josh remains silent. He doesn't like labels, doesn't think labels are necessary on things that didn’t belong on Walmart shelves, and the idea of having ‘ASEXUAL’ printed across his mind terrified his trembling fears. No one like Josh could hold Tyler down. Not for love, anyway.

For a long time, especially as he lies beside Tyler, he wonders if he can ever be 'fixed' as if he is a toy that's been dismantled and screwed back together with the pieces in the wrong places. But the truth is, he isn't entirely convinced he is broken; he doesn't believe the problem is himself, rather everyone else's obsession to make him see sense. Yet, for Tyler, he'd convince himself he were an alien with four legs if it got the man to love him. "Beauty is the eye of the beholder," Tyler muttered one day, half awake and half his DNA consisting of substances Josh didn't know existed; he wasn't entirely thinking straight, and had been mumbling nonsense for a little while now, but the vermilion haired boy thinks quietly 'and you are the most beautiful thing I will ever see,' like some romance poem that was meant to end in flames. Fuck, if this is romance then it's been dead for centuries because all Josh is really feeling is anguish and self-doubt burnt into a cocktail of what might be hatred for his existence in general. He wants to be perfect for Tyler, so he can stop Tyler living in the past, from assuming all he was good for is getting high and getting off with some stranger past midnight with these pretty stars on the ceiling. 

Sometimes it seems like the brunet boy just doesn't want to be tied to anyone, it makes sense since the last person who held his heart had crushed it and his self confidence at that. Now all Tyler was good for is convincing himself he is broken (It sounds all too familiar to his best friend). "I love you," Josh whispers finally, like a weight of his chest as he sits up.

But his friend is fast into the curls of dreams.

Tyler can't be tied down. Josh knows this. Not by someone like him.


	2. Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh will fix himself. He has too. So he can save Tyler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mental Disorders, Depression, Anxiety, Mentions of Self Harm. CW: Cheating. Sadness and general hatred of oneself for ones sexuality.

**_"The ribbon on my wrist says,_ **

**_Do not open before Christmas,"_ **

* * *

 

On the Save Rock and Roll tour, both Josh and Tyler felt miniscule next to the likes of Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy. These two big names that they’d grown up with on their tongues and bleaching their minds of the hatred that came with their existence, and here they stood beside them as an equal. But really, they were no more than fans that got really lucky. Patrick was a sweet sort of guy, blushed a lot, and constantly backtracked everything to repeat it; for a lead singer, he had less confidence than he should have (Especially for one so nice). Pete, however, was a little like Patrick’s support, they weren’t in a relationship or so Josh is assured, but every time Patrick looked down in despair of himself, all it took was his best friend’s hand on his arm and he was smiling again. Sometimes, Josh thinks back to when he and Tyler were two halves of a whole, now they were two negatives and pushing each other away.

Brendon Urie was a nice person, in his own corrupt sort of way. Sometimes he was wrong and sometimes he was stubborn and most of the time he was selfish; but he wasn’t an intolerable person. Tyler was very able to put up with him. Or rather put out for him. It sounded so bitter rolling from Josh’s mind as he sat on his own in the dark for two hours listening to the sounds that he wished didn’t make him feel so empty. Tyler’s moans, at least, should have some desired effect on him but yet again he was missing the part that functioned his lust, and all he wanted was for the sounds to stop. It worried the crimson dyed boy most that Brendon had a wife, someone who loved him and cherished him and cared for him and yet, here he was. At least someone can make the brunet boy happy; someone that wasn’t Josh. A worry as heavy as weight itself pressed against the redhead’s chest, bitterness welled in his eyes as the faucet turned and for fuck’s sake Josh, pull yourself together. But he was running out of parts to keep sewing up. There were days when he wished he could swallow the A to Z of the periodic table to feel a little numb, perhaps then he wouldn’t be so bothered by how stupid he feels. Everyone likes sex, Tyler likes sex, he should like sex if Tyler likes sex because they’re soulmates and this he knows isn’t a lie.

Midnight hits before Brendon stumbles out of the bus. His eyes meet Josh’s and they widen slightly “ _Shit_ , I thought you were with the guys,” But the elder man isn’t apologising for touching things that aren’t his, especially when he has a girl who loves him more than her heart can handle at home. “I’m sorry, It’s my fault you’re out here in the fucking cold,” The singer goes to help up Josh but the younger boy shakes his head, and looks up; there’s a shine in his eyes that makes Brendon sit down next to Josh, draping his hoodie around the drummer’s shoulders. They don’t speak, but Brendon gets a slight gist that he’s sat outside his tour bus crying and needs some form of comfort. Even if it is his corrupt sort of good.

“People say maybe I need to find the right person,” Josh says quietly, and a few moments of sniffling, “You see, I’m broken, I…I need someone to fix me, I need to find the right person, right?” Brendon is looking in his hazel eyes, because they’re wide and frantic and searching for an answer from the stars that reflect in the dark soulful ones that meet his own. “I need to have sex…I need to enjoy something, I can’t be like this forever, _right_?” The singer is bewildered, trying to push the pieces together but they’re not making any sense. Josh isn’t making any sense to him, because sex is a good thing (Brendon’s never had a doubt, it was a good thing, it is a good thing, always has been, there’s never needed to question it, Sex is great with people, gender and quantity doesn’t really matter). “Brendon…I…I need t-to…” Now the dark eyes are very wide, like moons really, because Tyler’s one thing, Tyler likes sex, has it very often and Brendon knows this. But Josh is a different story, Josh is untouched and yes that makes him even more desirable but surely that should be between someone he loves and not one he’s a shadow away from hating.

“Look, you need a rest Joshua,” There’s a stern sort of worry that was reserved for one person whom Brendon would never and never wants to see again. There’s care in his eyes, which Josh can appreciate at least. “You get in there, sit down, have a rest and a shower, get some sleep, I’ll talk to you when you can speak properly,” The singer has a harsh way of showing his love, but it’s enough as he helps the fumbling boy to his feet in the eye of an unfolding storm, a storm between Josh and the self-destructive presence of himself. “Night,” Josh opens the door, shivers are racing through his veins and he’s so numb that every nerve in his body feels open and exposed, raw against the power of the world. His fingertips are frozen, pale from the icy gale outside, and he hadn’t realised what warmth felt like until he stood in the radiated room of the tour bus, with eyes on the couch. Tyler was asleep. Of course. It’s all he seemed to do, sleep at times when his friend needed him most; having said that there’s no way he can peel his eyes back to suit the selfish needs of his friend.

A shower feels inviting, against the frozen tendrils of nature, the hot water is like heaven against his skin. But he’s alone and that’s a pain because as eloquently put by Tyler now he must “Sit in silence,” And the silence is the painful thing because his own mind is a prison and it confines him too his worries and fears and the tears that he cries. The sound of water is what he tries to listen to but all he can really think of is how strange he must be. Imagining the disappointed look on his partner’s face as he explains that he doesn’t like sex; for that at least, he must spend eternity with this chastity love, or force himself to be someone he isn’t. Neither one sounds like hope, and there we go again these quiet times can be so very _**intense**_.

Alone in the water, Josh thinks he could try to drown himself; perhaps no one cares, as if his depression was deep enough more things seem to pile on top like weights holding him down to the ground with long, thin marks against his skin tied up with a long ribbon to paint the illusion that he wasn’t falling apart at the veins. But everything was unstitching, mind, heart, body, soul, his forehead was becoming a weapon against himself and his throat was raw from explaining his hatred to a mirror. If he squints enough through his caramel orbs, he’s swear he can see a lose thread somewhere, maybe if he pulls, everything will come undone. He’s already coming undone against the pressure of the world. From this band to Tyler, from his brain not working properly to the fact his own body is decimated in ways he can’t really place a finger on.

The shower turns off, the crimson haired boy stands in front of the mirror blinking, once, twice, tears or water droplets dance down his cheeks and he couldn’t care less. Tomorrow he’ll take Tyler’s place; he will do anything for him, which involved liking this…getting used to it. Maybe that’s all he needs? To get used to it? He trusts Brendon surely, he’s a fairly respectable person and he’s nice and aesthetically pleasing to some value if you look past the fact he’s basically the outline of a real life cartoon.

That was settled.

Josh **will** fix himself.


	3. House Of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh tries to find someone he knows, who he trusts, who will always take on a challenge. Surely one of his best friends can fix him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety tw, general self hate, Brendon tryna help Josh. Urm Josh attempts to have a physical relationship??
> 
> Also I should clarify I am not Asexual, so I can't fully articulate what it means to be Asexual and the struggles that come with that so thanks for the support so far guys I hope I continue to do a good job.

_**"And since we know that dreams are dead,** _

_**and life turns plans out on their head,"** _

* * *

 

Josh was becoming a tempest; a tornado, an erratic curl of nature that seemed to have lost control of his own actions. The redhead, hair primed from its usual mad tuft of crimson under a black beanie, stood impatiently pacing for the arrival of someone, someone important. Black skinny jeans that were almost painted onto his skin itched uncomfortably but the skin underneath felt even tighter. A loose shirt that clung to the muscles in his arms but seemed to lose its fierce fitting over his stomach clothed his upper body (but was so thin that it was a rather poor substitute). However, he was trying at least to make himself appear appealing for his guest. It’s not that he wasn’t already a meal on a dinner plate for the lustful man, but the meat that he had dangled in front of the predator was nothing to him actually trying.  Now, Josh shuffles from one foot to another, with hazel eyes jumping from object to object, feet scuffing the floor.

The doorbell rings, and, like a jackrabbit, the drummer jumps and completes a rather fluid 180 degree turn to face the door as if looking his enemy in the eyes. “Door’s open,” He calls out, and busies himself with retrieving a bottle of wine and some glasses. In walks a man, no taller than himself, with beautiful dark hair that’s pushed backwards from his forehead; eyes that are dark naturally but there’s no mistaking the charcoal danger that strikes every shade. He’s a beautiful man, lean and muscled with tattoos along his forearm and clothes that make Josh wonder if he made as much money as he spent. Brendon Urie was, at the best of times, a lucky charm, and even further a bachelor of lust. “Hey,” The voice Josh has heard so many times sounds so different with his proposition on his tongue. “Are you sure about this?” The singer raises his eyebrow and accepts the glass of wine, sipping precariously. “You don’t have anything to prove to me Josh…if this is about Tyler…” He’s cut off as the redhead throws back his glass, leaving the other to swallow nervously. He didn’t like how this was going.

 “The last thing I need is a conversation about…about _him_ ,” The soft curls tumble forward as he discards his beanie, the dusty flush to high cheekbones leaving a smile against Josh’s lips. Like the bittersweet alcohol had become stardust in his veins. There’s bitterness written all over his body, and the white of his knuckles bare themselves before setting the glass too calmly on the table. “I just want to be fixed, I want to enjoy sex, I want him to _love_ me,” There’s nothing more Brendon can do, but sit in his confusion as his hand is taken, and the elder is dragged into the shared bedroom.

The singer feels responsible; to the ends of the Earth he will blame himself for the next half an hour of his life. He should’ve realised the moment that his friend had begun to spin tales of repulsion and fear, that Josh was afraid of his own sexuality. At first, Brendon had assumed that Josh was struggling to come to terms with his feelings for another man and needed fixing of his fear. But that fear soon warped into something much greater as the elder would realise that night.

They didn’t get far. The drummer’s lean, beautiful body was pressed underneath the hard weight of the ebony haired man’s, whose crotch pushed forward like it was invading. Josh felt a little sick, a clenching of his stomach informing his that this didn’t feel right at all as the singer’s hand crawled u[ his body in a gentle touch that felt like a weight of bricks, gravity forcing him down on top of him, pulling against his chest. And oh **_fuck_** , he couldn’t breathe. Josh blinked. Then screwed his eyes shut. Tried to imagine it was Tyler. But no, it just hurt. His body was responding to the touch in some slow fashion, but he himself shivered and shook and there was a hand and…

He jumped, pushed Brendon away. The drummer had no idea he was crying until there was soft hands on his shoulder’s rubbing circles. “Hey…it’s ok…we don’t have to…Josh I already sad you don’t need to prove anything,” And Josh…just breaks. He snaps like a twig but he’s so much more fragile than that already. He’s sobbing viciously, broken glass tears or shattered diamonds leaking from his eyes as his shaking, shivering body trembles against the warm embrace of his friend. The elder doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand the fear. For a moment he worries someone else has damage him, taken apart his want and lust, ripped out one of the batteries and produced a badly made circuit with a few wires frayed. But no, no one has done this too him. Somehow, somewhere, he’s done this too himself. Or so he thinks, he must have done something wrong.

“I just want to be normal,” He whispers, shivering, “I just want to be normal,” Now he’s panting and hyperventilating, the soft hands remain on his shoulders and nowhere else but the crimson haired man can remember them on his crotch, touching him, caressing him, and it’s enough for him to dart up and be violently sick into the bathroom toilet.

Brendon sits, wide eyed as he takes in the situation. Josh isn’t broken. And again, there’s confusion stitching itself into his binary code. Reminding himself Josh wasn’t to be touched, he asks rather quietly if the other would like him to leave, but through the haze of puke and tears, Josh is too hysterical to respond, so the elder helps him to his feet, helps tidy him off and into comfortable pyjamas. “I want him to love me,” Is what the vermillion haired man manages to croak through, “I want him t-too…but he l-likes sex, and I don’t,” The younger boy all but collapses into bed. “Am I broken Brendon?”

“No, you’re perfectly normal Josh, it’s ok not to like sex,”

Josh doesn’t believe him at all.

 


	4. We've Got A Real Big Mess On Our Hands

**_"Become a social ghost_ **  
**_Inside a box, cut at the top_ **  
**_To let some light shine in_ **  
**_To remind me what I’ve done and where I’ve been,"_ **

* * *

 

 

Brendon is confused, now this isn’t an abnormal occasion, after all he was born with a pretty face and blessed with a beautiful voice but otherwise brain cells he had been supplied with had been killed off in the process of too much happiness. Happiness in the form of plastic bags and sweet smoke. Either way, there has never been a moment in Brendon’s life where he has stood in this position, watching his friend fall apart next to him because of something that could be so easily helped if people simply taught it instead of shunning it. The younger boy is a ball of self-hatred and the only ‘broken’ he is, is the fact he can’t understand himself. The singer knows he should tell Tyler. Tyler can help Josh and Brendon can barely help himself. He’s alone by himself in a band that built a generation, because he can’t build bonds, and everything he touched became poisoned like ink to a pond full of life.

Brendon simply couldn’t help, no matter how much he wished too.

So when Tyler Joseph stumbles into the bunks in the early hours of the morning in state of intoxication that was far too brutal to life of his veins, and faces the usual booty call, he’s pricked with confusion and curiosity. He doesn’t notice the dried tear stains on the sleeping boys face, only the presence of the elder man. “Brendon? Wha-What’s…” He hiccups, wiping the blurred eyes as if the movement of his hand will stabilise his thoughts and words into coherency. A deep breath later and the younger singer resumes piecing words together “What’re you doing here?” A yawn cracks passed his lips and he moves to sit on his bed, hoping gravity letting go of his legs will allow his brain to function properly.

“It’s Josh…I’m worried man…” He trails off, rendered a little helpless and lacking hope as he sees the lack of disinterest in Tyler’s drunken haze; like a field had opened up around him and he wasn’t really listening. “He needs someone to talk to, and I can’t be here for that…I’m not…I’m barely…” Tyler snorts, and it sounds dark, if Blurryface had been given a physical being it would be here and now as the glint of menace in the alcohol DNA of this man stirs. He doesn’t mean to be brutal, doesn’t mean for what he says to sting, but the moment the Jack-tainted words flip off his tongue, he knows his headache will be worse in the morning.

“Yeah, we know how that turned out, just look at Ryan,” Everything, as if time as an essence had ran short of its sand grains, stills, and Brendon wonders what breathing is as his ribs cave in and the ghost of his heartbeat flinches erratically. The chiselled jawline grinds and tenses, hands balled into fists like rocks, tight and hard within the fold of his coat. Suddenly sobriety floods the nerves of Tyler’s body and he swallows, straightening his back like a rod had replaced his spine. The younger doesn’t apologise, he’ll do it in the morning, when there’s only the bittersweet footprint of last night’s events and his words are more believable as he writhes in agony.

“He’s upset, he’s hurt and you need to talk to him about sexuality…and stuff…you both grew up in similar households you understand how he must be feeling except…” The full, pouty lips dry slightly, causing his tongue to dark out over them, trying to soothe their nervous tremble “Look I think he’s asexual…he has no idea what to do, Ty, he thinks he’s **_broken_** ,” This man grew up a Mormon, he understood oppression, he understood expectancy, of course he couldn’t understand revulsion of sex; it was something he craved, like some other unforetold addiction that he swears he doesn’t have. He’ll cry later of his foretold broken heart or rather lack of with the fragments held in **_somebody’s_** hold.

Tyler wants to pretend he doesn’t care. It’s easier that way. He loves Josh like a brother would love his brother. But he’s always realised the feelings that surge through his best friend’s body; not the lack of sexual intercourse though he’s noticed that too. But the way he poured his heart and soul into the safety and security of himself. Of Tyler. Josh loved hard, with his mind, heart and soul; and that was not an experience the singer could reciprocate. There’s only one way the he knew how to love and it usually took fifteen minutes and occasionally he was thrown $30 for the inconvenience. He was a dirty person, he liked to fuck, he liked to feel drained and out of control. Josh was safety. Innocence. Heart. No, they weren’t compatible and never will be.

“I can’t help him,” Is all that exits his mouth. Like it had been chained to his tongue and the look of shock and subliminal disgust he receives makes him shiver. “I’m serious B, look at me, I go out, I party, I get drunk, I fuck, and he… I couldn’t relate to him even if I tried, even if I wanted too,” He hisses and snatches the other up. “And don’t you think you should be heading out too your own bus now? Careful, Dallon might miss you,” A resounding ‘slap’ echoes across the room and Josh darts up, eyes wide and panicked.

Brendon is shaking, Tyler doesn’t move, only downcast dark eyes of sorrow to a floor that’s in desperate need of a wash. They all are. But the lead singer of a band that’s losing its hope steps out into the darkness, and he’s someone else’s hustler from that night forth. Josh will apologise as if it’s his fault from that day onwards; but he always blames himself, blames himself for not being good enough for Tyler, or Brendon, for ruining both their relationships with each other. For being the human embodiment of anxiety; it was all his fault. It was always his fault. Even when it wasn’t really.


	5. Impossible Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh allows himself to sink. What he's not realising is that Tyler notices, and refuses to acknowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I am so sorry this is so short, I tried to write more but I felt that it needed to end on that sentence and then continue progressing next chapter. I have no idea if this story is going to have a happy ending or not. Thanks for sticking with me so far, your comments male my actual life :)
> 
> PS Sorry if this chapter is less centered on tylerandjosh and more Josh.

 

_**"There's no sunshine** _   
_**This impossible year** _   
_**Only black days and sky grey** _   
_**And clouds full of fear** _   
_**And storms full of sorrow** _   
_**That won't disappear** _   
_**Just typhoons and monsoons** _   
_**This impossible year,"** _

* * *

 

If Josh hadn't already thought he was broken, now he was certain that he was destroyed. His incapability to dissolve himself into mainstream surroundings caused a wound to form upon his mind, and suddenly he was thinking darker and deeper and further away from all that he was used too. “I’m sorry,” He mutters, sat in his palace of thoughts that was crumbling beneath him. “Oh God I’m so sorry,” He doesn’t necessarily believe God is to blame for this, but he doesn’t think he deserves an apology either. It’s not God he is doing wrong too. He could save Tyler, he could save him if he could offer himself but his selfish thoughts prevented him from allowing the other to fall in love with him.

The cherry on top of this cigarette was that Tyler refused to look at him; as if he knew what had gone down between him and Brendon, as if there was something he knew that he wasn't allowing to be known. Unable to properly confront the other man in fear of repercussions, he suffers in silence as far away from Tyler as he can get. This isn’t an altogether easy task seeing as the tour was currently in full swing and they had about four more venues to play, so like a caged rat he took the furthest corner of the tour bus and moped there.

Tyler, of course, was worried. There’s not a chance he would lift a finger to admit this, but the bitten nails right down to his fingers spoke volumes of the fear residing in his eyes; but no words direct themselves to Josh, no comfort, not a hand on his arm or a soft look. The elder could tell the agony his best friend was in, but refused to contribute to his soothing because of his own pride. A bitter pill to swallow when you realise you have incarnated sin, but the supposing is that’s what happens when you were raised a good Christian boy. You become so bullied that you have to be anything but.

Now, seeing Josh’s thoughts eating away to the bone, broke the little fragments left of Tyler’s lead-lined heart.  His eyes were always drawn and there was barely any energy put into his drumming, usually Josh drummed like it was the very end of his tether, the lifeline keeping a steady beat too his heart. But now, what beat was left? Simply an echo of everything that could’ve gone well, the pulse faint in a world of reality. Josh was almost inanimate as he sat in the same places, ate the same food, constantly waiting to go to bed instead of doing things. But still, the singer only watches the silence.

Josh wasn’t depressed, ir at least it’s what repeating inside of his head over and over until there’s a faint buzzing where thought is supposed to be.  He’s convinced to no end that he hasn’t enough troubles to be depressed, that not liking sex is not an excuse to be upset all the time (Or feel like a black hole had opened up from throat right through his spine, engulfing all that is inside of him). But he’s also not sure why everything feels like a chore, why he feels so lonely, so isolated, why his head and eyes are always so heavy and why Tyler never speaks but looks at him with the saddest eyes.  Distantly he remembers the pamphlets on depression; he recalls their fine print, the brightly coloured pictures that were oh-so dark. He knows depression, he knows the symptoms, knows that this emptiness, this isolation, is exactly the same but refuses to acknowledge it.

When he confesses to Tyler that he wants to die. Tyler starts crying.

He’s never seen him cry, but since Josh’s parents kicked him out of their life, Tyler has been all he has and has been simultaneously a parent, friend and internally a lover though that wasn’t something that was feasible. But the singer shakes and there’s tears and he’s holding Josh so close that it breaks his heart, suddenly Josh feels so selfish, unable to notice that Tyler had already known and the confirmation was breaking him. Tyler wasn't made for this anymore, everything he had felt he locked away under drugs and alcohol, he has no idea how to help and fears that he will only brutalise what is already hurt. “You’re all I have,” Tyler muttered. And it’s a lie, he has Brendon, he has other friends, he has a lot of sex so he has plenty of partners.  But that’s not what Tyler meant, what was actually trying to form from his lips was  ** _“You are the only one I love,”_**


	6. Hold On Til May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh and Tyler (think too much) talk a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long, my computer has a virus and i'm just about too start exams so forgive me if this is a little sketchy it was done on my tablet in the space of an hour.

"And as the sun went down,

We ended up on the ground," __

* * *

Josh rocks a little in his state perched precariously on the edge of his bed. Beside him, Tyler lies very still, his eyes a wide beacon of ‘help me please’ as he tries to decipher this situation. Their hands rest atop each other and they wished their body could entangle in such away but for the moment, the only touch that the drummer thinks he’s ready to feel is gentle fingertips. He’s scared, he’s shy, his heart feels ready to burst and his skin is on fire. The last few days had been so hectic and cram packed that he needed a mental and physical breather; Tyler didn’t seem to mind, the singer was panicking to no end in reality because he’d hidden behind a bottle and several different partners for so long that he forgot that he loved Josh more than the life and world.

 

The elder had no real perception of reality, it was drained away in a haze of lust, drugs and alcohol, forming a tight titanium shell around his body to block his view of the pain he could see through half open eyes. This, however, was all his problems multiplied (Although in reality he had one maybe two serious problems and one of them was that he was in love with his best friend, yet none of them concern Josh’s sexuality or lack of). His fingertips trace patterns on the back of his best friend’s hands, knowing that an hour ago the drummer had thought about flushing a packet of pills through his system just to feel a little better about being alive. “You’re my best friend,” Tyler mutters, softly, with pain behind the irises of his eyes, he’s not sure who he’s reassuring, but he’s trying nonetheless. “And urm…Brendon told me everything that happened,”

 

Finally, the singer rests aside the coke lines in exchange for his actual personality that hasn’t been coded with codeine and cannabis. He sits up, not too close, he doesn’t want his friend’s anxiety too make him feel as though he were suffocating. The natural curls to the unruly hair that the elder had allow growing out, falling into worried eyes and pity. Pity for what? Josh wasn’t broken, but the other couldn’t think of a life in which one would despise sex. Or not enjoy sex. That was up to Josh at the end of the day. The drummer in question however, fails to look at anything other than the bedsheets, both hands now resting in his lap; cheeks flushed crimson in embarrassment and shame. “I…I…” But no words could form, what was there to say? Tyler couldn’t be there for his friend, he had nothing to support him with, had no understanding of this situation. And Josh, well the fact his romance was too deep for his best friend prevented them from actually communicating anymore, even more so when those feelings are returned. “I’m sorry,” Is what finally comes out.

 

Tyler stills. There’s no reaction to his blank features as he blinks over at the other; even without a cloudy mind he cannot for the life of him understand the apology. He racks his brain, tries to think what could he have said to make Josh feel that he had anything wrong to apologise for? Let alone it be something the redhead could control? The singer shakes his head, but no thoughts miraculously piece themselves together, and so he sits very still. “I…urm…f-for what?” He’s at a loss, trying to understand this absence of lust for others. He’d need to read into it, he doesn’t want Josh too feel unsafe even he can’t truly help.

 

 

"I'm sorry I-I’m weird a-and…”

 

 

Tyler grabs Josh’s hand and gently rests his head against his shoulder, shaking the unruly curls gently, before leaning up to press a kiss atop the crimson mop. “Joshua William Dun,” He scolds lightly; a smile so dainty on his features it almost doesn’t fit the usual dirty, smug smirk that graces it. “You are unique, and beautiful, and whether or not you like sex does not define to me who you are,” Oh but it would, it really would and does. See Josh can never have Tyler, and Tyler cannot be brought from the agony of the world unless this came to fruition. In the fiery vermillion brain of his own, he saw himself as shards on the floor, piece him together and they could fall in love, they could be happy, otherwise Tyler would be always frustrated, Josh would have to learn to “put out,” in any scenario, there was no happily ever after. Unless Josh learnt to like sex, he could not save Tyler from his lost life with no fulfilment; simply being used all the time.

 

 

But Josh remains silent, he does not speak his thoughts, and nods into the darkness, keeping still as if a gag bound his mouth and cuffs scraped his wrists. Neither occurred, but a weight on his chest insisted that he did; nonetheless Tyler didn’t think of him as a freak, and for this the younger accepted soft arms around him, allowing the friendship they had too at least be a fire unable to put out; even if the spirits that fuelled it needed a rekindling. Either way they held onto each other as blocks of ice trying to create a burning heat; and gripped tightly like dehydrated animals in a pool of vinegar.

 

 

Friendship overall was higher than any amount of lust. And so Tyler admitted he had no qualms with the lack of sexual attraction Josh could feel. It didn’t affect him, after all, not really (Even though inside it really, totally did, because of what he had thought, seriously differed from what he now knew, and he can be proclaimed guilty for lustfully thinking of his best friend from time to time now feels like secret harassment).

 

 

But even as he feels Josh’s beating heart press against his, falling asleep with his own skinny arms wrapped around his friends in brutal hope to protect him, he thinks of how he can see the light failing in his eyes. How close his best friend is to slipping through a noose. Josh is his best friend, for years all they’ve had is each other. He can’t lose that now. Not too something so simple (But so complicated).

 


	7. Northern Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh starts his coming out journey by (re) coming out to Brendon, Panic and Fall Out Boy during the tour hotel night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should clarify that for the purpose of this story, and also because I love them too much for any cheating stuff to be going on. Neither Sarah Urie and Jenna Joseph exist.

"You know the world's a broken bone,

but melt your headaches and call it home,"

-Northern Downpour, Panic! At The Disco

* * *

 

Josh could no longer tell if he was comfortable or uncomfortable or simply mildly inconvenienced with Tyler knowing his orientation. As it so happened, it was neither good nor bad as his friend simply started to ignore the happenings around him, although, admittedly growing closer to Josh. Now knowing his friend was struggling, the elder had become reluctant to leave his drummer alone for more than a few minutes at a time. In fact, like a bucket of ice to the face, the singer seemed to have been visibly shaken by how distant and pained his best friend had become without him knowing; the fact that _**Brendon**_ , of all people, had discovered it before him made a welt grow in his stomach and all the memories of agony occur at once. He couldn’t allow himself to let that happen again; he didn’t want Josh to feel like the worthless crap he had always labelled himself. _**No**_ , Josh was beautiful and stunning and the brightest light of his hollow life, his solace and demise at once. There was no way, in hell or heaven or someplace that someone else can believe in, that he would standby and ever allow him to feel like that.

The main problem, and he’s approached this once already, is that he likes sex, really likes sex, and couldn’t possibly imagine a life without it. Bo one he knows, or knew, except for Josh has ever shown him an example of another life; and it confuses him, because this is the normality- the never-ending sex drive that men are “Supposed,” to have, and by supposed, he means: that’s what he’s been told since he knew what sexuality was. So this, this strange concept that had now been introduced, was foreign too him, to a point where he had too sit back and evaluate all he knew, and how to approach this without offending or upsetting Josh. So, they had an understanding that Tyler would slip up, and feel like shit for slipping up, but that didn’t appear to be enough.

The twisted galaxy that had formed in it's beauty from the collapsing black hole of their strangled friendship, was far greater than any of them could have first imagined. When they had first met, they were stars in the night sky, bigger and brighter than anyone else, and there wasn't a friend nor foe that could burn a more beautiful radience than themselves; they were their own gods, and wrapped in each other, not a greater friend could be found. But as they approached high school, their tether grew taunt, their status demoted to a temple, and suddenly there was no one to live inside them any longer, they grew distant. Then, without breaks, they hightailed the end of highschool into college, and they took from stars straight into angelship, with wings that beat the tide like a ferocious monster. They formed the band, they were inseperable. Somewhere between Vessel and Blurryface, they became distant, bruised. Tyler had always liked sex, and he took every night as an opportunity with no care for what Josh might want (sleep, peace, a bus without seven differant kinds of drugs killing his best friend vein by vein). They went from a temple to the rocks and dirt to the suicide school of murk and rotting flesh. Josh was as alone as the second day of tenth grade when he realised he was a hollow cave in search for something he could not find, a beating heart being told what he must feel to realise he felt none of that at all.

But he loved; **_damn_** did that boy love. If the colour of his hair was a flame, then his heart was a roaring hearth every time he mae eye contact with the shell of what his bandmate used to be; his bet friend; if things had been different, they might have been lovers. They might have shared their emotions and dare themselves with a more passionate embrace if the mere thought hadn't made the drummer violently sick. But now, with Tyler knowing how Josh felt (To some extent) and trying so desperately to peice together their relationship, they felt like stars again. Josh still blamed himself, for the way Tyler is, he tells himself that if he'd had liked sex, then he would have been the only partner to say he loved him; but all he could really offer were words and arms not fingertips and nails. he'll always love him for never asking "Are you sure?" or "Maybe you've just not found the right person," and he'll always love him for dropping his nightly activities to search the internet for "Help I want to support my best friend he's asexual hw do I not offend him?" in not so many words, but it could possibly be the effect he was going for. 

The two were closer now, with the scare of one of them being lost to things neither could truly fathom, they had managed to tie to broken strings of their own pain with a crimson ribbon, though makeshift, a beutiful bridge until they had more to build with. Tyler listened to Josh speak, to ramble about his insecurities, and talk about a boy he might one day know as himself. The elder admits that sometimes he feels used, and sometimes he doesn't want to have sex. He then later confesses that the only person he's ever gone through with it and enjoyed it with was Brendon, because he trusted him. Like that, Josh wanted to cry, because the boy had destroyed himself and it was too late to reel him back into a life of love, when he's brutalised his idea in the form of drugs and agony. 

At some point, between Tyler and Brendon, he began to explain things to other people. The perfect opportunity arose during the tour when the three bands found themselves at a hotel for the night, their rooms spread over a floor. Patrick, for example was a rather keen and interested listener; all bright eyed with his fedora askew and giddy questions tumbling from his mouth. Pete, who knew the A-Z of every spectrum, nodded along as if he didn't know most of the information. Though he identified as Pansexual, much like Tyler, and could never relate, he offered any help he could. Patrick, who was slightly more in tune with the struggle (although identified as Demisexual, there was a long time where he had thought he was Asexual), spent the rest of the afternoon high-tailing his friend everywhere, to a point where the drummer simply decided to stay in one place, watching as the singer and the bassist  asked what he was comfortable witnessing ("Little kisses and holding hands, really guys, you don't have to be hyper aware of me or anything, just PG as usual,").

He was shy about it, but the response that his coming out was met with by the other bands on tour was still rather surprising. Overwhelmed, he found himself on the balcony to the hotel that the three bands had been shoved into for the night, to be joined by a man stumbling in high heels and a wide grin. Brendon offers a quiet, silent look of pride, before engulfing his friend in a hug. "Those heels suit you," Josh breaks the moment with an appreciative look. There's silence, and a beat that stretches over what feels like hours. "I'm sorry for making you do that and freaking out on you," Brendon chuckled in reply, resting his pastel pink drink atop the balcony ledge.

"Rather you freak out that the alternative," There's a pause, and he looks down at the black shoes on his feet before sighing, leaning against the edge. "People have freaked out on me before, and it's a thing that happens, people change their minds but either way I can tell when it's forced," He gives a smile that's sad and experienced like everyone else who grew up at sixteen. "And some people throw glasses at you and complain that you turned them gay and then they write a song about you before leaving a band that they basically founded, leaving you _ **heartbroken**_ and unsure if you can ever feel love properly again because you aren't sure what that is any longer," Josh swallows, becaus he knows exactly who those words are painting, in a glow that was loving and so fucking bitter.

"Have you spoken...?"

"No, and I don't intend too," His words are curt and quick, like a knife rolling through flesh at a pace that cannot be stopped, and the silence that follows seems too echo. "Now," Brendon takes a second, collects himself until the tears that were inhis eyes evaporate like morning dew "There's your best friend in there, two whole groups of people who love you and that does include me, so, by the way, by default you have to love us too," He grins, and it's as if he was never upset at all, it's often he forgets that the singer is such a good actor. "Now... _when are you going to tell him_ , _**eh?**_ " Josh stands at the balcony and looks down at his feet, thinking absently _**'it's not that easy' .**_


	8. Makeshift Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh comes to the realisation that Tyler isn't such a nice person once he steps back and considers him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, I am still writing on a tablet, and I'm kackered but I wanted to have this updated at least once because tommorrow I'm seeing ATL, Good Charlotte and ATC, so I won't e online. Saturday I'm going to a college interview and need time to relax afterwards (I get really stressed over small things and need downtime often) and then on Sunday I'm going to Scotland with my school so I'm packed up until Tuesday.
> 
> Secondly, This chapter isn't centered really on Josh's asexuality. What I wanted to do was start to reveal the in's and out's of Josh and Tyler's friendship, after all I've already given you a bit of their past, Tyler's overall acceptance of Josh. But there would be no real plot if there wasn't something that needed to be improved.  
> This story, although it's main focus, isn't solely abotu Asexual representation and how Asexuals shouldn't have to "Conform," to societal expectations because otherwise they're "Weird," It's about looking into other minorities too- for example, Tyler is hypersexual as a result of lack of self confidence. Brendon is hypersexual because of abuse. Pete struggles with dsylexia, Patrick is Demisexual. 
> 
> But there are two main focuses here:-  
> Asexuality,  
> And Hypersexuality.  
> Mostly, what I'm aiming for here, is displaying throuh Brendon how abuse can lead to hypersexuality, as I see often how abuse can lead to asexuality, but not the opposite. I mentioned previously, very briefly, that Ryan and Brendon were in an abusive, manipulative realtionship. And the in's and outs will be revealed rather soon. And yes, there will be more to the Brallon storyline.  
> Also disclaimer: I love Ryan Ross ok and I don't think he ever has and ever will hurt anyone. Esp Bden. 
> 
> Ok, long notes, sorry bye.

> **_" fucking hate these nights, the ones where you don't know me_ **   
>  **_If I could get this right, if I could get away from the old me_ **   
>  **_But I'll survive, right now I'm dying just to breathe in_ **   
>  **_Just to be alive, just to get away from the old me,"_ **
> 
> **_-Makeshift Love, Good Charlotte_ **
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

The silence of the outside world was a better haven for Josh right now; despite his coming out, he knew it would only be so long before Tyler couldn't withstand being away from sex, and drugs, and everything else that he poisoned his veins and mind with. Like ideas that he was never good enough that the redhead hears every morning through tears and lyrics that thousands of people worldwide can relate too. This included, probably, himself. Though, granted, at least the singer had found a more stable partner other than listless names that see "Toy," over "Tyler Joseph," Brendon, of course, wasn't the sort of person that you settle down with; not really, he'd had his heart broken one time too many and at this point he wasn't sure what a relationship truly was other than heartbreak and the constant feeling over 'never being good enough'. So since around 2008, he's not had a stable relationship (Unless the on-off-on again relationship with his bassist counted, but still that mostly stayed between the sheets and lasted long enough for Brendon to hate it).  So perhaps the two of them got on so well...well got _**on**_ so well, because of their shared hatred for romance? Now, Tyler's reasoning was that he wasn't good enogh, and Brendon's reasoning was that it didn't exist. Which left Josh stuck with the idea that romance does exist, because he feels it, he feels love. Just not the way they felt it.

But anyway, the sanctity of his tour bus had been ruined by the panting and moans of his friends, so had taken advantage of the pit stop to climb aboard the Fall Out Boy tour bus, and talk more to the blonde boy who was perched atop the couch, legs crossed and engrossed in a book with glasses askew. Patrick glanced up briefly, lips breaking into a smile. Pete had been leaning against the other, head against the younger's kneesbas he listened to his boyfriend read aloud. The redhead had known and listened to the lyricist's mumbled conversations on his struggles with reading, as well as apparnt dyslexia. Which was strange for a man who wrote the most beautiful lyrics. "I have to concentrate so hard, it hurts my head," He had explained "Sometimes I just say the words and Patrick writes them, or do the speak-to-text thing on my phone," And as for reading, he simply curls up in his lover's lap and listens. "Patrick's voice is the single most calming thing in the universe, he could talk forever, and honestly, I'd never get bored," The two of them were an ideal relationship that the drummer could only dream of, a little miserable as he sits quietly on the spare chair and looks over at their smiling faces.

Patrick slides off his glasses, frowning at his friend's crestfallen face. "What's the matter?" He mumbled softly, seeing the shadowy expression, and reflecting it with one of concern upon his own. But Josh can't speak for a moment, suddenly there's a lump like a fist choking him, rising in his throat with watering his eyes, causing his veins to scream for mercy. Pete, recognising an anxiety attack, darts off the sofa to grab a glass of water and some chocolate. Patrick kneels gently in front of the younger, holding his hands for a second to let him use his touch as a grounding method. Josh doesn't remember what happened between his jumbled thoughts of "Iwanttodie," and "Icantdothisanylonger," but his lungs cried out and his throat went red raw with tears and anger and fear, his body wrecking every emotion like a tidal wave, for a moment he feels insane, for a moment he could fall and it wold feel like flying to his death. He doesn't remember crying, but he's sobbing and gasping, clutching desperately at Patricks' shirt, unable to decipher words and sentences and agony; his mental health is scrambled and, for a moment, he truly wishes he was dead. The worst part is, he doesn't really know why.

The eldest dissappears then, leaving the singer and the drummer to talk. Whilst Pete was great with emotional problems, he felt his partner could help far better with this than himself. But there wasn't a person who lived on that tour bus who had never experienced mental health issues at one time or another. Andy had taken the hiatus particularly hard, and was so far between a personality of pills and bottles, that he wasn't himself for a long time. Pete had been struggling with so many disorders that his DNA was a cocktail of Codeine and Prozac for several years. Either way, they were all supportive of the notion that Josh should stay on their bus for a while. Or at least, Andy and Joe were when they returned with a casket of beer and more chocolate than their net worth combined, to find a shaking Josh Dun.

The decision was finalised when Josh admitted, not for the first time, that he wasn't 100% about wanting to be alive; in fact the visions of his death were becoming more and more vivd. And it wasn't because of **_Tyler_** that he felt like this, depression couldn't come from a stupid crush (He tells himself with his nails digging into his palm enough to draw blood), but he had no one else as a constant in his life. His parents had rejected him at a young age, his coming out scheme hadn't ended well, he had no solid friendships in high school, and half way through college he started this stupid idea of a band with his best friend, only to realise he had become desperate and dependant on him.

The thing was, overall, he didn't hate Brendon, or any of those blurred names on Tyler's bedpost, or even Tyler. He took all that hatred, all that loneliness and forced it into himself, demanding that it was his own fault that he never made any solid friends, that everyone seemed too vacant so he was not enough, that Tyler cared more about sex than himself, that his parents wouldn't accept him. In his confused, twisted up mind, everything correlated to **_his fault_**. This all came out in stream of tangled words and quiet tears, because it must be him, why else would it all happen if it wasn't him. Had to be. Couldn't be anyone else.

And the thing that really stung him, is that he wasn't even admitting this to the man he had given up cllege, risked his future for, the one who he had blindly taken the hand of, and gladly followed anywhere. He wasn't admitting all this out of love, or worry, he was admitting this, wrecked on the tourbus of friends he had made in the past year because they took the time to care about him for more than a few seconds. He recalled having a panic attack in front of Tyler and the other leaving the room because he didn't know how to deal with it. Tyler struggled with his own opinions of himself, sure, but perhaps he didn't really deserve much, the last time he showed some kindness to Josh took him to admit he wanted to kill himself before he took into consideeration his feelings. Patrick noticed the change in emotions, from soft sobbing to stony-faced anger. "Fuck this, fuck him, I'm just.." He wipe dhis eyes "I'm sick of him just bringing anyone into the bus, especially since he knows sex makes me uncomfortable, whether I'm participating or not, it's general human decency to ask your friend or at least warn them before he just decides to use the tour bus as a strip joint," Behind him, Pete hums in agreement.

"Me and Patrick don't have sex on tour, Andy and Joe save any potential hook-ups not that they make a habit of it, for hotel nights," Andy, who is very obviously nursing a can of cider, nods and then shrugs, as if it's a given that he doesn't go around screwing random people. But this wasn't a respect thing, no-one here could really care how many people they took between the sheets. The real, more prominent problem, was respect for each other, caring about each other's feelings. Pete knows that Andy wouldn't want to hear him and Patrick (and this was nothing to do with the fcat that Patrick basically had his own biological schedule as far as sex was concerned, his sexual attraction was limited and didn't occur as often as his ever constant romantic love for Pete, which made their sex life even more difficult, and yet they still wouldn't do it on tour), and out of respect for their band mates they don't do it.

And just like that, Josh felt his heart stop.

 

 


	9. Dial Tones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he's getting better at lying. Or Tyler just doesn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure I'm going to give this a happy ending yet. But in this chapter we see:  
> Actual mother hen Patrick Stump.  
> Sad puppy dog sorry Bden  
> Tyler doesn't give a shit   
> Josh is me and a giant ball of anxiety.
> 
> Also sorry update is slow. I have my first exam in two weeks and I came out as Transgender at school, so I've been a giant ball of Anxiety.

> _**"Take your caution,** _
> 
> _**or take your chances,** _
> 
> _**I'll mend your heart** _
> 
> _**and break it in the same breath,** _
> 
> _**all we ever share are Dial Tones,"** _
> 
> _**-As It Is, Dial Tones** _

* * *

As it turns out, guilt was eating Brendon alive. Not Tyler, who was barely aware that he had done anything wrong, or that Josh wasn't even on the bus in the first place. But the elder singer was pacing, arms folded, lip trapped between his teeth as he tried to somehow make sense of his erratic actions. One minute they were talking and then Tyler's hands were down his pants and somehow the Vegas born man struggled with control from that moment on. It was the only way he knew how to feel valued; between the sheets of someone's bed, every moan is a praise, and he remembers being told that his lips are only good use around a cock. But at least he talks now, that's better than nothing. Tyler knows this, and takes advanatage of it, he needs to feel loved too, and the only way he can do that is by burying himself in someone else for the night; mentally and physically. 

But as Josh curls up next to Patrick in the Fall Out Boy tour bus, hours before their next set, it's Brendon who walks in, eyes soft and sad like he's made more mistakes than his drained soul could account for. For a moment, everyone goes still, Pete isn't there but Andy, whose halfway through reading an out of date magasine, suddenly decides he has other places to be. The smaller singer, like a tired and irate cat, immediately narrows his eyes at the newcomer and sits up. It's defensive, the way they make such foreceful eye contact, like children almost; but the blonde could see the anxiety in Josh's eyes, the weariness, and that was enough for him to spring into mother hen mode.

"I'm sorry Josh," Is the first word that leaves the plump lips, bitten through fear or whatever might have gone down last night. There's defeat written all over his face, as if something he'd been running from for years had wrapped it's coils around his neck and suspended him so far up that the ground was nowhere in sight. There's a broken expression on hia face, and the drummer is remnded of himself. At least, at least, this one has realised he's done wrong. He isn't his past, and he isn't Tyler. The thought makes the redhead feel physically sick, that his best friend, the person who is supposed to love him and help him, is the last person to see his pain. Or maybe what really hurt is that he wasn't really that surprised at all.

"It's ok, I knew that already," The drummer sighed and swung hislegs from the couch, carding his mussed, knotted hair back from his forehead. He's sure he looks a state right now, but the sleep that's heavy in his eyes prevents him from truly caring much at all. Rubbing the back of his hands against his heavy lids, he stands on shaky legs, reminding himself of how drained he is; every step forward is like he's watching the steps to the hangman's noose. Josh convinces himself he's being dramatic again. "I'm ok," It's a lie, and it's such an obvious lie, not even Brendon, who wants to believe with all his heart that he didn't contribute to breaking the man, believes it.

They all had someone. Patrick and Pete, never without each other usually, they were the seperate halves to a whole that were soldered and bound together, inseperable for their forevers (until death do them part). Brendon, he was fragemented, and perhaps there was no puzzle that could perfectly fit his peice anymore; but he had Dallon, who held his hand with such carefulness and looked at him like the moon and sun rose and set in his eyes. It was a shame that they would never really have a love story, or at least, not whilst the singer sat with depression on his sleeves and a glass heart, shattered, in the cavity of his chest. And Josh? He thought he had found his soulmate, even platonically, but the distance between them had started small and now placed them both on opposites sides of a playing field. Opposing teams. The word broken had never become a label on anyone but himself before this tour, and suddenly his eyes were open to a lot more.

He wobbles as he leans against the wall, feeling pathetic and drowsy and shaky. His fingertips tremble as they close around the door, but his legs and stomach work in unison as he lurches himself outside, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the ashen grass. The elder men crouch beside him, taking in the sickly shade of porcelain that now painted his fragile skin and helping him up for some support. "Myheadhurts," the crimson haired man slurs, feeling fragile, like a child as he feels the familiarity of hands helping him up. There's tears stinging his eyes, his head is like a carousel, but there's no care for either.

whydidn'ttylerlovehim. whatwasthisfor. wherewashegoing. hejustwantedtobeinlove. love. love. whatislovehethoughttylerwaslove. orhate. hate.

A whirlpool opened up inside him, like a compression wrap had found it's way as a second skin around his mind, squeezing. His hand reaches out, finds another, it's not Tyler but it's warmth and it's comforting. He sees glasses and sadness, and then there's three of them, before his eyes close back into the still frame of his mind. And his legs give out. Then there's blackness.

\--

When he next comes to, he's looking at a very failiar air of eyes; they're sad and soft, and all Josh can think is how much he wants to see them smile. He makes everyone sad, everyone pities him because he's a freak. There's a hand around his own, for a moment he flinches because he didn't remember saying a hand could be on his, especially seeing as he was too drowsy to properly anticipate whose hand was on his. Sometimes he got a little jumpy just because there was a person near him, and from that life went downill, rolling and rolling. There was snow where there is now water, and the analogy is just Josh's existence. "Tyler," He croaks, looking up at the sober and half closed dark orbs as they watched him. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you, I think I forgot to eat yesterday," he sits up and rubs his eyes, pulling his hand away from the other's, who makes no move to rejoin them.

"If you...if you have a problem Josh, you can talk to me about it," His friend says gently. "It's ok," But it isn't. It's gotten to a point, where Josh could probably have a better conversation with Brendon and feel more secure, and understood than Tyler. He's not even trying to understand, at least his sex partner had the decency to apologise, or even look remotely sorry. If he wasn't so in love, he might've been angry. Instead he felt alone, deserted and to blame; surely somewhere along the line it was his fault, perhap he did something for Tyler to become who he is now. The thought makes him shiver and scoot away from his 'best friend', eyes full of the exhaustion that he was only mirroring.

"I'm fine Tyler,"

He's getting better at lying, he thinks, as Tyler just looks relieved and stands.

Or maybe he was just hoping he wouldn't have to deal with a broken Josh.

 


	10. Tangled In the Great Escape

> _**"And so I scream mayday I'm in trouble,** _
> 
> _**Send somebody on the double,** _
> 
> _**Scratching at the floor inside my mind,** _
> 
> _**They all accept the lie,"** _

Josh would be lying if he said he ever wanted to meet his best friend's eyes again; if that is, what Tyler even was anymore. He was somewhat understanding of the other man's addiction, but it wasn't healthy to pawn off your body for some sick idea of a diseased love. More importantly, he was worth more than that, if he'd allowed himself to believe so, instead of stubbornly screaming in the mirror that he was good for nothing. It didn't irritate Josh, no he'd stood and screamed more bitter things at his reflection. A hand lay on his, and immediately his reflexes were to pull away. Some days he could tolerate human contact, today was a day where everything tasted like coffee and felt like sandpaper on his skin. Today, it seemed, was a day where his name and humanity would not meet in the midway of the same sentence.

Let alone his name and Tyler's.

He's not even mad, or aggravated, or even experiencing any melancholia, except maybe he is just a little bitter that the man who had been his rock for years couldn't care less over his crippling anxiety and endless self hatred. Everyone else was mad. Brendon kept apologising. Josh kept saying he didn't need to be sorry. After all, they were the normal ones, and he was the broken one ("You're not broken," They would insist, but _**lies**_ , they all burned like lies) The lead singer stopped visiting, Tyler went back to strangers and Josh felt eve worse. But at least now that was half of some fractured relationship he'd managed to fix (everyone notices the way Dallon stares at Brendon and no one has the heart to tell the man he's in deep water, or perhaps a tsunami, yes that's Brendon, Tyler was a Hurricane, and Brendon was a tsunami, together they were a destruction of broken hearts).

So he sits in silence, with no irony involved, and does somewhat wish he had a radio of some sort to distract him from haunting himself. His phone was dead. He wished he was inside the battery, and the charger was lost in the depths of the ocean. "Set me on fire," But the fire was himself, a silent little match in the midst of a storm, and he was flickering in the midst of it's terror and anguish, diving into the great unknown. "Playing with fire will only get your fingers burnt," and yet no one had told him about the oceans of gasoline that would soak his skin as he was left in a room where the walls were alight. That was what his life had begun to feel like. Tiptoeing around his volatile friend who at the mention of someone's problems other than his own, shoots out f the room like a firecracker. The same friend that a few years ago had uttered "We're in this together, you and me, until the end," So what, was this an end he hadn't foreseen? Where one of them is rewarded with self-worth and the other a short rope and a long drop? A this point could a distance be insisted between them?

Patrick told him that Tyler was looking for himself in others, that he has lost his respect and love for himself, and is desperately trying to cling to what he knows. Josh spat back with this broken sort of look that said "And I could've fixed him," No matter what it seemed to be, the blame happened to rest on his crooked shoulders, and soon (very soon) his back would snap, and his ribs would bruise and the compression of all the blame he has weighed in his heart will finally open every vein and artery. Like a poem of depression, his blood would run thick with all the words he wished he'd said. And instead, he'll drown in the despair that he's always known.

Tyler looked at him, and those eyes said sorry, even as Josh grabbed his phone and made his way out of the trailer, even as some lust-drunk stranger moved past him, it all felt like he was just going to say "It's ok," in the end. Because Tyler was his everything. His rock, his life, the person he ran away for, the person who he dropped everything for. So as he sat with Brendon at one end and Patrick at the other, and both of them staring at him as if he were seconds from exploding, he realised he couldn't throw his everything away.

He needed to talk to Tyler, in a serious fashion. But if he wasn't willing to make a change, then perhaps he wasn't worth fighting for after all.


	11. The First Punch

 

 

 

> _**"And we're screaming  ' why can't we just be friends?'** _
> 
> _**It's not that easy but it's half of the fun** _
> 
> _**to see you throw the first punch,"** _
> 
>  

Tyler wasn't going to lie, he was shitting himself. Not in any literal sense, though he probably could've been with the sheer look of fury that was drawing across every line and contour of the smaller man's face. Patrick, the sweetest and possibly most well-mannered person in the world, is burning holes like arsenic cocktails into his face, and an ocean of kerosene would hurt less than this. It's ridicule first, and then his eyes, the big betrayer, soften, almost as if he feels sorry for Tyler (Sometimes, even Tyler feels sorry for Tyler, so he's familiar with this piteous look). His words are heavy even as they roll off his tongue "I can't believe you did this too him you hurt him so badly..." He trails off and rubs his eyes "Did you even ask him how he felt?" There's a hand like iron on his bicep but an iron grin against his ribs, suffocating him. "Every night, he sits there in silence, ripping himself apart for your lifestyle, he blames himself for losing your self worth and you? You won't even take into account how he feels when you crawl in every morning, inebriated, and hanging off a stranger's arm," Tyler remains silent, it's not a battle he has the privilege of even truly participating in, never mind a shot at winning. "And don't pretend you don't know how he feels about you,"

This startles the singer a little, and his eyes go to his feet immediately, he knew exactly where he stood with Josh, he knew exactly how they both felt, and yet their compatibility had nothing to do with their love. They weren't built for each other, they would never be the puzzle pieces to make a bigger picture, not now, not truly ever.  Hypersexuality and Asexuality made nothing but a mess of hormones and broken hearts, and Tyler was not ready for either (Or a greater mess than the one he had already so carefully crafted) His fingertips found themselves pressed at the base of his wrists, trying to put some feeling back into them before his eyes close slowly. "I just...I..." And then he goes silent as if trying to find his reply in the echoes of the world around him, hidden in the pockets where no sound could reach. "I love him," He admits, and it's heavy, like rocks are grinding his jaw. "But I'm not...I can't..." there's dead silence, because neither of them can produce a solution here. There is no way two of them, wanting such different things, could be happy, whether they loved each other or not. 

"I'm sorry," Is all Patrick can muster, his eyes soft and sad, like he wished once more than he could take all the healing abilities of the world and solve every scratch upon another's mind. "I'm so, so sorry," He reaches forward and grabs his hand, squeezing gently, "Maybe one day it won't hurt so much," But it's all he can offer, both of them sit in silence and realize there was never a choice. Not really anyway. But neither of them have the heart or terror to express as much, even though Patrick is infuriated by his friend's behavior, he understands none the less. It would be the same situation if either of them tried to control the other's life; both would remain uncomfortable whether sex was allowed or banned in their bus. 

"I want to help support him, but I'm never going to understand, and sometimes I even feel that I don't want too, what's the point? We can never truly fulfill our relationship, I would be uncomfortable without sex, he would be uncomfortable with it, both of us will feel like we're not good enough no matter what," And Patrick couldn't really say anything in reply, because he had no idea, there was nothing he could say that would change this mindset, and even if there was he could never say it honestly because this wasn't him. He was neither asexual or hypersexual, and although he bordered either at some point in his life, it wasn't his identity and he couldn't put himself in their shoes. So he honestly couldn't help. 

"You could try,"

"Getting my hopes up isn't on the list of lies to tell tonight, but perhaps saying I love you to a stranger down half a bottle of liquid confidence is," 

\--

Josh was a wreck; in fact this was becoming part of his most basic coding because once the news is relayed to him, he now most definitely blames himself. "My fault," He repeats, like he is convincing himself that he is the key to all the worst things in the world. "Mine, the fault, is mine," But it really isn't. It was never his fault, it was never Tyler's fault they were just unlucky enough to fall in love with the people that they could never truly fit with. It happens. Emotionally they were meant to be, and somewhere along the line maybe they could've been, but for now it just wasn't the right timing, it wasn't the right setting and neither of them should have to change for the other. And how should they know that they could not love someone else? Have they known anything else? Josh had never even been in a serious relationship and Tyler couldn't pull himself away from a bottle of whisky long enough. Neither of them were brave enough.

The tour was rapidly approaching it's end, and with it, Josh felt, their relationship. Or whatever they had had with it. For at this point the strands they had left to claw at was hardly a friendship, it was hardly the same dependence they had both grabbed at at the beginning. They were walls stood alone, with a black, empty gap between them that neither of them could move into; stood stock still and brokenhearted like scarecrows in a field of half eaten crops. There was nothing left to work towards, nor a hope that they could find to keep them grounded. It was gone. All gone. That innocence that they had found all those years ago was destroyed and left destructed for the crows to feed on. Neither of them should change, but together there was only discomfort, they simply weren't meant to be until they both grew into their sexuality. But Josh refused to leave Tyler to struggle alone. 

Even if he couldn't really help.

He wouldn't leave him alone.

 


	12. Miserable At Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh is trying, he's really trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who figured out how to update eh?  
> Some Joshler, some Brallon.

> **"But I guess**   
>  **That I can live without you but**   
>  **Without you I'll be miserable at best"**
> 
> **-Mayday Parade, Miserable At Best**

Josh was running very quickly out of reasons to put off this conversation; and it appeared that the singer also wanted to be anywhere else. Neither of them can be 'fixed' they are not puzzles, they're barely even broken and the only prison they have are the confinements of their own minds. Those minds, incidentally, are a work of self destruction, that will lead them to feeling broken. But people cannot break, we are not glass or ornaments, our minds are fragile specimens, but at worse they can feel a little poorly. Illness can be cured, but it's a long treatment, not just a "Be happy," A treatment that could last for 10, 20, 60 years. Depression is an illness, like a cold, like cancer. And like cancer it never truly is cured, unless you're extremely lucky that is. Like a cold it always returns when inconvenient.

And Josh, the shyest, sweetest man one could come across, it's just his luck that like any good person he has a price to pay. And depression is that price. Tyler gets the same curse, and the two of them are skeletons rotting in the basement, stripped of their skin and organs and their will to think. It seems strange that two people so very similar could be so very different, but each makes their own path in life and isn't instructed by another to do so. "God gave us free will," Tyler mutters over a bottle of vodka, staring up at the ceiling through sunken eyes and broken skin "I wish he hadn't," He takes a long gulp from the bottle and Josh, perched opposite him stares with the saddest eyes anyone has ever looked at Tyler with. Secretly, the cotton haired boy also wished the world hadn't been cursed with that blessing, for Humans seemed to exist for destruction and glutton. 

"We really need to talk," The drummer muttered with his cheeks a soft crimson and eyes flickering around the room as if looking for something, anything to make him feel lie this wasn't his fault. But it is. It's all his fault, he brought this up and now he's going to make it awkward and uncomfortable. Before his mind could disappear into a whirlpool of mixed thoughts and emotions that made him feel like his heart was breaking, Tyler hummed in agreement, grounding the younger boy to the actual situation. _'He's agreeing with me, so we're in the same situation, this isn't my fault, why does this feel like a break up?'_ And it does, it feels like when one half says to the other 'We need to talk,' and then a disastrous sequence unfolds where crying usually ensues. "We need to stop avoiding our problems, Ty, we used to share everything with each other and these days you just seem to act so...distant a-and...selfish," He swallows and looks down at his hands. "You're my best friend Tyler, I'd do anything for you, but you don't even seem to care about my discomfort,"

The singer doesn't speak, there's no words he can even say. _'Sorry'_ would be a lie, and so would _'I won't do it again,'_ he _needs_ it, he craves it, it's **the only thing that makes him feel** , and the only feelings he deserves is lust and humiliation. The bottle swirls the putrid drink inside it, and his dark eyes watch the liquid swish around and around, trying to sink into the pattern. He is being selfish, he's always been that way, it's human instinct to be selfish, and for some reason Josh didn't have that instinct (In his mildly tipsy state he asks himself if maybe Josh isn't Human). He looks up with a drowsy sigh and meets the soft, worried eyes of his best friend and nods. "Yeah I've been a bit of a.." He waves his hand dismissively, splashing alcohol over his lap in the process. He blinks a few times, trying to process the mishap. "But I need it Josh, the alternative would be so much worse,"

They both shiver. Simultaneously, they recall a not so brighter past, where razor blades would make a blessing on skin and the periodic table would sink into their veins. Being a teenager had not been an easy experience for either of them, and although not much has changed, Tyler was right, it could be so much worse. Guilty, Josh leans back against the chair and runs his hands over his face. "Then I want to swap buses with Brendon," He whispered softly, "That way everyone is happy," The drummer had already spoken to the singer, who had rather cautiously peeled himself away from whatever he and Dallon had going on. They'd agreed, and the bassist had looked a little melancholy, but perhaps it was for the best, after all, Brendon had some pretty girl waiting for him at home, and Dallon was only there to get his heart broken by the earthquake Brendon caused.

Josh was aware how it was none of his business, as he watched the two interact, but nonetheless he couldn't help but feel as f he should give the taller man a warning, o he didn't end up in this state three years later with his best friend swimming in self hatred (though Brendon was already at that point anyway) and him feeling he was all to blame. Was Dallon aware that his lover in a more absent sense, didn't know how to love? Not anymore. The Vegas born mans idea of love lay between insults and punches and swearing. Between prayers and being told he was worthless. Between the sheets and not much else. But the other man? He was roses and sunshine and the smell of dust after rain; he was the fresh cut grass in spring and the sound of birds in the morning. Anyone with eyes could see they were not compatible. And yet the drummer wished and hopes and _**begged**_ whatever deity there was out there that at least they could have a happy ending, God knows one of them deserved it. 

Josh trudges onto the tour bus, and is greeted by Ken, who looks exhausted and ready for everything to come to a hat, his eyes smile though, and the vermilion haired man is grateful for the welcome at least. "Coffee?" He asks, setting about making his own; black coffee with four sugars had become a sort of tour essential it seemed, for everyone on it. He watches the door open and a tall glass of water walked through, he waves at the drummer, and there's no resentment in his eyes, despite him basically just shipping off his whatever-they-were to spend the last couple of nights of tour with his renowned fuck buddy. Dallon was sweet, a little naive despite being in his twenties, but nice in general. They talked alot, and every conversation ended back at Brendon. 

The drummer almost felt bad knowing he was going to have his heart crushed.

 

 


	13. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh is exhausted with his friend's behavior, and confides in Patrick with his troubles. Whereas Tyler hooks up with a fan, which has repercussions for all involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AKA I'm halfway through exams, procrastinating and decided to unload half my stress, and yes the fan in question is based off a youtuber because I'm too tired to construct another personality)

> **_"I'm not a peice of cake,_ **
> 
> **_for you to just discard,"_ **
> 
> **_-Cake, Melanie Martinez_ **
> 
> * * *

Josh found himself wondering when the ceiling had changed color, one moment it was white and the next it was grey. His confusion subsided when the clear voice of his friend shattered the silence with "Dallon told me you've been lying here all day, since he left you alone anyway, six hours ago," That's why the color had changed then, because the sunlight had stopped reflecting it's surface into his eyes, eyes that had been mostly blurred by tears anyway. He was fed up, exhausted in all seriousness because Tyler could never and would never comprehend how **_in love_** with him he is. He couldn't, because to Tyler sex and romance were the same thing, which was just who the singer was and Josh couldn't ask him to change because that was selfish. Tyler didn't even love him, in any way it seemed because if you loved someone you would try to understand (Or, apparently, take Brendon's tactic and let them go).

"The sky looks clear out here," He finally responded, looking out the window at the stars and clear highway, with no idea who was driving this damn bus, or when Patrick had even got on, or if this damn thing would crash and everyone but he lived. The shorter man adjusted his glasses, the sleeves of his sweater folded over his pale knuckles and a small smile tipping at his lips. Patrick Stump was one of the sweetest people Josh had ever had the honor to meet and Pete better know how damn lucky he was to have someone so nice and understanding. "You can see the stars," The redhead hears and feels his voice crack, feels the arm envelope around his shoulder, "Tyler used to tell me we were stars, we were our own religion, I told him he couldn't say things like that because it was blasphemy, and God would get mad," He laughed bitterly through hidden tears. "But God gives up on people like us, He gave up on us all,"

The blonde inhaled deeply, moving to squeeze Josh's decorated arm gently "Don't say things like that Josh, if there's anyone to be proud of in this world it's you, look at you, you've been hurt so much by so many people, but you're so **_kind_** ," The two of them sit in silence for a few moments, watching the stars drive past. "You know how things move that are near to us, but things in the distance look like they don't move at all?" He says suddenly "That's called Parallax," the blonde pauses for a moment "Sometimes we spend so much time studying the things close to us, watching them come and go, that we don't notice the things in the background that are still there, they're still moving but we don't notice because they're so small," Patrick pauses, pushes the glasses up his nose awkwardly again, Josh absently wondered if he's been taking lessons off Pete concerning pep talks. "You're like that, you keep moving in the background and no one notices because you're so distant," He pauses "You keep trying to bottle everything up Josh, and it's not until this tour that anyone's noticing because Brendon caused you to break, you need to open up, talk to us, so we can start noticing properly, but stop focusing on Tyler and see the bigger picture, so many people out there can understand you, you don't need a man whose not even willing to see you as anything but his background," Josh laughed.

"You and Pete are becoming one person," He chuckled, leaning against his friend with a small smile "But yeah, I see what you're saying, Tyler is so focused on everything else, that he's barely noticing the person I've become, I've concentrated on only him for so long, I've cut myself off from everyone else, but it feels like I'm just a tree in the background in the distance, and to be quite frank that's how he treated me," The smaller smiled, content with his friends conclusion. Watching as the other sat up "You're right, I'm sick of trying to change for him, "

"Nice to have you back Josh,"

\--

The set finished, and the energy it usually had boiled at it's under surface was dying. Josh and Tyler were stony faced each time their eyes met, the electricity of their friendship had sizzled as if it was suffocated and burnt out. The singer had noticed the hard look his best friend had given him, he was just trying not to notice. After the show, Josh headed back to the Panic! bus, and Brendon came with him to talk to his band for once. Tyler, however, took liberty of the after party and an empty bus to look for a new catch. Boredom was starting to become his primary emotion now, and two many goes at the same man was a worse feeling when he knew his heart lingered on another. Not Brendon, no matter how well he fucked. 

He's on his third pint of Guinness, when a man slides in the seat next to him, there's a grin on his face and his voice comes out layered in Irish syllables. "True Irish drink that," His voice is loud, but it's energy dictates that it's not because of the music; and his hair is dark brown at the signs, like a natural brunet, but the top was a bright mixture of lime and emeralds. A piercing set of azure eyes stare with a bright glimmer right into Tyler, and he smiles, finishing off the pint. "I don't actually like it," The man continues, "There's better alcohol," The singer grins, cheeks flushed at the man's outright confession, and laughs despite his mood. "But you drink like an Irishman anyway, that was three pints straight, one after the other, careful, that's a one way street to no liver,"

"Jack and Coke for the pretty one," He orders from the bartender, gesturing the man next to him, ignoring the roll of his eyes and instead studying the newcomer "I'm Tyler," He drinks in the baggy Twenty One Pilots shirt hanging off the newcomer's skinny frame "But I'm 90% sure you already new that," He concludes. The drink is slid over to the man (Who looks like he's about 20, but there's no conclusions to be made, Tyler just really hopes he's at least bi-curious). 

"I'm Jack," Comes the reply, and the drink is gone in seconds "Don't suppose it's my lucky night?"

"That depends, would sleeping with an Irishman give me luck?"

\--

In all relative, Tyler did get lucky.

\--

But it didn't bring him luck.

\--

The next day on every social media site, the trend seemed to be "Tyler Joseph is gay,"

\--

Jack got outed to all his friends and family.

\--

Funny what one little photo by one person can do to your reputation.


	14. This Is Gospel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler is furious and Brendon is the only person making sense for once.

> " **These words are knives and often leave scars,**
> 
> **The fear of falling apart,"**
> 
> **-This is Gospel**

* * *

 

 

Tyler hadn’t moved from the space where he’d curled up against the wall all day. His frail body looked pale and sick, and the blankets covered his slender frame whilst his dark eyes made distant use of another planet. Josh and Brendon had tried and failed to get him to move, or to repair the damage of the smashed up phone screen that remained perched and ignored in the corner of the room. The fanbase was overwhelmed and in return so was Tyler. His friends had shown him all the support they could for this untimely coming out party, and the younger who had gone through all lengths to put some distance between them now once again found himself falling to the singer’s feet.

The elder man had immediately called Jack to see if he was ok, as he’d been identified and outed to the entire world, he was ok but understandably shaken. They both were, their private lives had been spilled to the entire internet. Luckily for the Irishman in question his family were accepting and the only problem they really had was why they hadn’t been told sooner. Tyler, however, was ignoring his phone completely once knowing the other was ok, he didn’t want to face his fans, and he didn’t want to face his family.

The drummer sat outside the door to what was once their room and tries not to voice how he feels. Occasionally, Brendon would come in, but he wouldn’t talk, as if he was very aware that they were both in a state that speech wasn’t really wanted. Tyler had to be coerced into leaving the tour bus, as if his greatest fear was suddenly the outside world (where he’s felt more at home than Josh ever did).

The thing is, he knows a large percentage of his fans will be supportive; however he just wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready to come out, he wasn’t ready to acknowledge his sexuality to the world, he had been forced to come out against his will. Fury wasn’t even an emotion at this point, it was his default setting. And as he was being dragged to his show, he had to remind himself that this was not the fans fault and they did not deserve to be punished.

Eventually, he found the humbled excuse for a phone in his hand once again, triple checking that Jack was ok, only to get the playful reply of “Careful, people might actually think you care,” It was said all in good humour but it still stung. His tired body made use of a shower and the furious, crimson-lined dark eyes finally rid themselves of sleep as his half-awake body moved around the tourbus. Josh thought he distantly resembled a zombie.

The night doesn’t settle early, and the sky is still light when they reach the venue; a soft, warm breeze rushes up their bodies and gently awakens their eyes to the outside world for the first time in a long time. Tyler knew he must now make an official statement on the situation, and this felt like an even heavier stab because he shouldn’t _fucking_ need to. His petite body felt a breeze press it’s fingertips underneath his kimono, where it hung lightly off his shoulders. The sun reflected on him, and he stood under its sinking glory for a few seconds, allowing it to brush over his skin before disappearing through the doors into the venue. The drummer leaned against the wall for a moment and tried to hold in the  waterfall of emotions that were threatening to break hi threshold. He wanted to be furious, he wanted to be so angry at his friend, for all the inconsiderate shit he’d done; and yet being outed so suddenly was something he knew he’d need his support through. Josh certainly could not leave him stranded in this, but Tyler also had to realise why they weren’t close anymore, why he might not give him the support he needs.

Brendon leans next to him, there’s a self-rolled cigarette hanging out of his mouth that is most definitely not nicotine. It smells sweet, and the drummer doesn’t mention it (he definitely takes some without being offered, straight from the other’s hand, Brendon says nothing despite looking like he wants too, Josh is old enough to make his own choices). “You’re being supportive,” The singer comments through a cloud of smoke, watching everything around him distort “That takes guts, given how shit of a friend he’s been,” There’s no judgement in his tone, no wonder, just clear statement like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “You should tell him you love him, you never know what you could work out,” He watches the very last end crumble, the burning tip now out.

The Fall Out Boy bus pulls up and they’re all smiling and laughing, like a band should be. Patrick and Pete are a perfect mirage of what a relationship could be, even Brendon looks a little heartbroken as they trip over each other through giggles and eye rolls. Patrick offers a small smile, but it tastes bitterly of sympathy, giving a heavy feeling in the pit of the redhead’s stomach.

They all made their way into the building, trying to ignore the obvious elephant in the room.

\--

“This next song is called Girls/Girls/Boys, I’d like to dedicate it to my good friend Tyler Joseph,” The crowd howls with joy, and off at the side of the stage, the man in question has never been more thankful for the existence of Brendon Urie.


	15. More Than This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh decides enough is enough. They need to sit down and talk until they've both got what they want.  
> \--  
> Also Brendon contemplates relationships.

_"When he opens his arms and holds you close tonight,_

_it just won't feel right,_

_because I can love you more than this,"_

* * *

 

 

It's about 1AM when they make it back too their tour bus. Josh looks exhausted, Tyler looks drained and Brendon looks confused as he's told to go to the Panic! Tour bus, where the redhead had been rooming for the last couple of days. The singer sits on the couch, his eyes dark and wide, his lips cracked with his entire demeanor that of a man who had given up. No one ever deserved to be outed without their permission. Josh sighs and sits down next to him, watching the other before wrapping his arms around him and bringing him into a hug. Just like that, he snaps. Every wall the taller man had built up cracks violently and crumbles down as tears spill over his soft cocoa eyes, blessing the others shirt with his agony. His thin body shakes in his friend's arms, until Josh feels his heart break. "I hate this," Tyler muttered "I hate this," The drummer is used to the other man being broken, every song that he's written suggests that he doesn't look in the mirror with kindness. But he was no more broken than Josh was in this sense. "I'm a fucking wreck," He cursed, "I'm sick of feeling worthless," Worthless. That was funny, how they both think so differently yet their thoughts always ended up on the same path. "I'm sick of feeling used Josh, I just want a normal relationship but how can I?" He rubbed at his eyes "I can't do that, I can't...this is who I am," He rubbed at his eyes furiously, the red tinge to them giving away every emotion he was feeling. "I just want to feel something, instead of hating myself all the time,"

"You don't need sex to do that Tyler," He says gently, rubbing his best friend's back. "You are something," He reminds the other "Hundreds upon thousands of people look up to you, you write their favorite songs, your voice is the thing that puts them to sleep at night and keeps bad thoughts away," **_You used to be that too me._** He doesn't say it aloud, but the thought bounces around his head as he holds the other, who curls up against his chest to listen to his heartbeat. It'd be romantic if it wasn't. Tyler was hypersexual, he was asexual, some things in life aren't always compatible. They just aren't meant to be. 

"I don't have an excuse, I'm just a fucking slut," The other growls, the self hatred in his voice making Josh want to curl away from him, a shiver running down his spine and causing his stomach to twist horribly. "Brendon at least has a reason, after everything that happened with Ryan..." And there it was, comparing himself to other people, the way he always does, the way they always do. Why be yourself when you can be someone else, right? "Me I'm just...I'm wired wrong, there's something wrong with me, I should go to rehab or something I just..." Josh sighed, interrupting his rant. The drummer ran a hand through his curling crimson hair before meeting Tyler's eyes. There was a challenge in them, as if daring him to speak again before he did. 

"I'm also wired weirdly," Josh reminded him "We all are, apart from Joe, Andy and Ken, there is not a single heterosexual person on this entire tour, we're all different, we're all a bit weird, why is that a bad thing?" The younger  paused and sat up, forcing the other to pay attention to him "Just because we don't fit into what most people say is 'normal' that doesn't mean we're bad or need fixing, it just means we're different, and we have to live and own that, because if we don't we'll spend forever violently hating ourselves," He rests a hand on Tyler's shoulder, giving t a soft squeeze. "Brendon is completely different from you, this was just the way you were born, if you like sex then have sex just be careful whilst you are because I don't want you or your partners to get hurt," Jack was a lucky one, he'd been ok with the newfound attention (and definitely taken advantage of it to boost his youtube channel) but not everyone will have the same acceptance. "But also please stop having sex with people on the tour bus with me in it, it makes me uncomfortable Ty, and I don't want to lose you, you have been my best friend for so long," 

The elder man nodded and looked down at his hands in shame "I guess I've been a pretty shitty friend haven't I?" There's a pause "Can I have another hug?" Josh chuckled and moved over to wrap his arms around his friend. The warmth from the other's body felt like home, with his friend's arms like a flag that says 'welcome back'. He could feel Tyler smile against his shoulder, and his heartbeat against his own. He felt like he was home again. When they retreated to bed, Josh actually slept at night, without feeling like his heart was a sinkhole and his life was a problem. 

\--

Simultaneously, on a different tour bus; Brendon sat cross legged on the couch, staring blankly at nothingness. He hoped that Tyler and Josh worked things out, that they actually sat down and talked and worked through things because even he was sick of seeing the same sad looks on his friends face. Speaking of sad looks, he cast a long one towards the bunk where he knew Dallon was sleeping, and, refusing to speak to him. There was no easy way to say the reason he wasn't speaking to him which was mostly the fact he was an idiot. Or that he'd finally told him the truth; not all the truth mind, he hadn't told him about his past relationship or how badly it ended or why he didn't want another relationship. So basically he hadn't told the truth. He had told him however that he wasn't looking for a relationship and now the bassist was going out of his way to ignore him. He technically deserved it, considering he'd taken almost everything from him. 

His story wasn't one he liked to spill. He hated to appear weak and back then he was, he allowed himself to become that person. Never again. Relationships just weren't for him, they didn't end well, in fact they just didn't endure well. Nothing was good about them at all, unless you were someone like Pete and Patrick and capable of having a happy ending. Of which, he was not. He was, however, capable of fucking everything up, like the current situation. 

It wasn't that he didn't like Dallon, on the contrary sometimes he thought he was the only person he was capable of truly liking. He was funny, calm, sweet and level headed. He had such intelligent eyes but childish ways that makes him seem so innocent and sweet. But, on the opposite side, he was firm and strong and knew what he wanted and how to get it. His kisses could be soft and gentle or sharp and demanding. The way he looked in the morning with the sunlight shining off his pale back reminded Brendon of what Heaven must look like. Dallon was the only person that Brendon could convince himself to fall in love with. He just wasn't going to let himself do that. Not ever, not again. If this hurts then imagine the relationship. 

He finally finds his feet and slips off the couch, heading away up towards the bunks, changing quickly as he pretends he doesn't know Dallon is awake and staring at him. Before sliding under the covers and going straight to sleep. 

 


	16. Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon knows he needs to tell Dallon, he knows that he loves him. He's just so afraid. No one wants someone who needs their walls breaking down and their pieces put back together.

_"Who will fix me now?_  
_Dive in when I'm down?_  
_Save me from myself,_  
_don't let me drown,"_

* * *

 

It's 2AM and the clock is ticking. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The tour is approaching it's end where they all run off and live very separate lives, forget about each other until it's time to face the music once again. Literally. Sometimes, Dallon will lie awake and convince himself he isn't in a band, he almost isn't, he's mostly known as the one that Brendon makes out with occasionally, that by itself isn't even all that special. Speaking of the singer, it was the reason he was even awake now, at 2AM with tears in his eyes whilst silently wishing he didn't know what it felt like to have a heart; being the tin man right now is his idea of Heaven (Not at all Brendon's morning voice, or the curve of his back in the pale morning son, Heaven isn't his sighs and moans, or the way his half lidded eyes look up at him through long lashes when he cums, not at all). He briefly wishes he'd never met the man, had never gotten involved in this band and most certainly with him. He was a _fucking_ storm, how could he hope to domesticate someone who had no interest in such trivial things? A life with Brendon would be a life of clinging onto someone who didn't know how to love.

This, of course, was a lie. Brendon knew how to love. he knew how to dedicate every waking moment to someone, to wait on them hand and foot and cater to their every need, he knew how to make someone feel comfortable as if discomfort were a thing of the imagination. He knew how to love until he forgot that he himself was a person, and not a robot; this man knew how to love until there was nothing left of him to feel. Because he'd been programmed into doing such things, been taught and trained and punished until he knew what love was.  He just built his walls up so high after _**he**_ walked out of his life that now he had to hide his heart from everyone, even his friends in some cases, to the point where the only real way he felt useful was in bed. 

The only real way he felt of use to Dallon. 

Tyler, of course, know this, because he's listened to the other man rant about it for hours as they lay down and smoke a joint late at night, silently hoping for something simple in the chaos of their lives. Or their bandmates at the very least. And Brendon listens to him talk about Josh, how his eyes shine when he smiles, or the way his hair curls into his eyes when it's just a little too long. Every now and then they talk about Ryan, they sit there side by side and Tyler asks him how he's doing, because he cares and that's a strange feeling for Brendon. But he trusts Tyler, he's upfront about what he wants and isn't a liar. He trusts Tyler. He tells him that he feels like he never wants to be in a relationship, but then thinks of Dallon and his eyes that have stars shining in them, and can't tell if it's Tyler or himself he's lying too. 

It's 2AM and the two are lying side by side in Tyler's bed "Bren," The brown eyed boy mutters, looking over at his partner for a second "Maybe you should give him a chance," It's so soft and so _Tyler_ , the way he says it, perhaps because he knows the look of  man who is in denial, or the look of a man who is in love (He wears it every day and the mirror doesn't lie). His gentle touch on Brendon's shoulder is that of a friend, a friend who made his own bad choices and didn't wish for the other to make the same ones, or similar ones. Or just mistake at all. "Dallon's the sweetest man you'll ever find, and he loves you, you're all he ever talks about, Josh told me he spent the day with him and every conversation seemed to be about your hair or your eyes or just how stunning you are," The information causes his eyes to widen, blinking slowly, before leaning back in shock, resting his head against the headboard. Josh had been given the heads up and was on the Fall Out Boy tour bus, sucking up more alcohol than blood flow. "You need someone, as much as you don't wish to admit it, you need someone,"

He nods solemnly because he knows the other doesn't lie to him, they were only ever truthful with each other, this entire thing was about respect and friendship. He thinks perhaps this is the last time he'll find himself tangled in the other singer's sheets, and presses a soft kiss to his temple. "Thanks Ty,"

\--

Dallon is sat cross legged on the couch and when the door opens, he looks up with this wide eyed look, lips parted and ready to talk, before he's balled into the warmth and smell that is undeniably _Brendon_. "I'm sorry," Is the words that are repeated over and over, a dampness on his shirt tells him his 'lover' is crying and immediately wraps his arms around his suddenly small frame. He meets a wide, teary eyed man, whose cheeks are red from self hatred and nails have been bitten down to the skin; he knows why he is in this state and above all feels they are both playing the blame game. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I needed to cover hypersexuality as a result of rape and abuse, because I see alot on asexuality because of it, but never hypersexuality? It's something i feel so strongly about because being degraded until you feel like your only good for sex is something that happens I'm living proof.


	17. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon talks to Dallon about his past, after Tyler makes an announcement to Josh that leaves them both at a stalemate.   
> \--  
> Mentioned rape and abuse tw.   
> ONCE AGAIN I WANT TO CLARIFY I WOULD NEVER THINK RYAN WOULD DO ANY OF THIS, HE IS A SWEET YOUNG MAN FROM WHAT I HEARD. I simply needed a character and the timelines fit. Ryan is lovely he wouldn't hurt Brendon.

_"My youth, my youth is yours,_

_Tripping on skies,_

_Sipping waterfalls,"_

* * *

Silence fills the room and the two find their eyes meeting in shock, the echoing sound of nothing causes Tyler's mouth to run dry as he shuffles back a little, with the arm of the couch pressing against his back and bites down on his lip. Josh considers him for a moment, before standing and walking away into the night, leaving behind the sound of broken hearts and a wish for some normality in their life. Normality being not in love with their best friends. 

\--

Brendon nuzzles the hand running through his hair, tears drying on his cheeks as he takes in his situation. For once, he feels angry, his body is on fire every nerve sparking with emotion. This wasn't his fault. The realization comes, after years of his friends telling him this, the gravity of it settles in with Dallon's long fingers carding through his dark hair, twirling the tips slowly, tugging slightly in a way that lulled the singer to sleep. It comes to his attention that his lover (or whatever it was that he was) was completely unaware of his thoughts, with this is mind, he sits up and looks at the other, his hand resting atop the other's. "We need to talk," He can feel the embracing arms retreat and the cool air makes him shiver, wiping at his cheeks to clear any trace of his breakdown. "I've not had a relationship since Ryan left," The shorter looks up through his damp eyelashes, struggling with his words already. Brendon simply didn't allow much room for his emotions. He was a bubbly sort of person who didn't express his worries or fears often; opening up like this was like opening an overly rusted door that hadn't been opened in years. "He...he hurt me a lot, during the relationship and I'm just, I don't think I'm good at them, you know, I know I'm good at sex, he made that clear and since then I've just...I don't want to get hurt again, but I don't want to hurt anyone else," 

Dallon's jaw clenched and whether it was out of anger or sadness would remain a mystery as he sighed, reaching over to place a hand on Brendon's, but he doesn't speak. Simply offers a silent comfort to know he cares and is listening. "He used to hit me, and fuck me when I didn't want him too," the word 'rape' was still far too heavy for him to say, although Patrick (who had been the only one at the time the knew) managed to say it often ("That's rape, Brendon, that's fucking rape, you have bruises all over you and scratches and...fuck, please tell you you're breaking up with him, please get him out of that band,") It wasn't until he went way too far and put him into a hospital that Pete found out, ad immediately set the ball rolling to get him out of the band and sobered up. On the insistence of Brendon however, they never took it to court. "And after a while I was just too scared to go into a relationship, but I felt good for sex, it made me feel valued, you know?" He doesn't notice the way Dallon is staring at him, with this wonder that says he is asking himself how Brendon is still here and smiling every day. 

"I can't believe you," He sighs, pulling the other close to him and burying his face in his chest. "Fuck I can't believe you let me anywhere near you," He pulls away, looking him dead in his eyes "You are strong, and amazing, and you're beautiful, and on top of that you're fronting one of the best pop punk bands in the world, you are doing so much more than I could've done in your situation, I don't think I would've survived at all," The bassist's eyes are watering before he blinks repeatedly to fight them back. "And, even if you don't believe it, you are good at so much more, and worth so much more than sex, you're so talented and wonderful, you don't need to rely on his words, just look at all you've achieved, all before you're even 30," Brendon burrows his way into the other's arms and holds onto him. "I love you,"

"Thank you," Is the reply he gives, because he's not sure he's ready for any other words, "And I want to try to have a relationship with you,"

Dallon smiles and gives him a light kiss atop his head, sinking into the feeling of the other man's head against his chest, and the warmth of his body against 

\--

Tyler hadn't meant to say it. They'd been watching some old re runs of a series they'd already watched too many times, and Josh's head was against his shoulder, cotton candy hair vibrant against his shirt and eyes half closed whilst watching just barely. The soft caramel color was almost translucent in the half light cast by the TV, and the pure bliss and relaxation caused Tyler's heart to clench. He looked beautiful by all standards, but that wasn't why the singer was so captivated by him. They hadn't been this close and relaxed by each other in such a long time, their friendship had been so stretched and worn that they'd almost lost it. Josh wasn't completely missing the skip of his heart by the other man's company. He enjoyed his warmth, the hugs, the way his arm rested across his shoulder's. He felt protected. It felt innocent. Tyler thinks he might enjoy this more than anything he's felt before. 

With that thought, he blurts out the words he'd kept to himself for a very long time. "I love you," It's quick and fast before his mind has even caught up with what he's said. But he doesn't regret it, it's something Josh would need to know eventually anyway. Silence fills the room and the two find their eyes meeting in shock, the echoing sound of nothing causes Tyler's mouth to run dry as he shuffles back a little, with the arm of the chair pressing against his back and bites down on his lip. Josh considers him for a moment, before standing quickly and walking away into the night, leaving behind the sound of broken hearts and a wish for some normality in their life. Normality being not in love with their best friends. 

The drummer sits on the stairs, regarding the nights sky, and how long they have before they return home. It's not that he didn't love Tyler too, it's that he doesn't want to hear the words "I can't be with you," the thought brings tears to his eyes. Tyler wouldn't give up sex for him, and he shouldn't have to, two people need to be happy in a relationship not one. He rubs his eyes so they don't line red, before looking up at the stars, an answer would be good now, surely. But God didn't exist and no answers were coming from the stars, no handwritten messages or burning bushes. Just himself and his mind (And Patrick when he calls him later to ask for advice). 

Either way they were at a stalemate, and perhaps it was time to end the game.


	18. Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh and Tyler talk, properly, and set out on possibly the biggest challenge of their lives.  
> \--

 

> "Won't you stay alive,
> 
>  I'll take you on a ride,
> 
> I will make you believe you are lovely,"

* * *

Tyler finds some sort of salvation on stage, the last night of tour, with his heart on his sleeve and his eyes set on the life that he has up ahead. The immediate future where he wraps himself in his own room, with his warm blankets and the thought of Josh Dun plaguing his mind. But Josh will be far away and until it's time to start up again, he might not see or hear from him for a week, two weeks, maybe a month. He'd done that, he's damaged what they had, and he would take the responsibility solely upon himself. The man sits back in his seat as he waits for their name to be called, his hands are sweating and his eyes are closed, but the mere thought of stepping out onto that stage feels like a rock in his heart. It'll be the last time he steps out on that stage in a long, long time. His hands clench by his sides and he opens his eyes slowly, the beautiful hazel is leaking tears, the sound of his name being called is a distant sound, he has to be ok. Wiping his eyes firmly he darts up onto his feet, stood beside his drummer who is staring at him with a concern like no other. "Are you-"

"I'm fine," His words are sharp as he brushes past, the lights go down and it's time to leave their lives at the stage door, right now it's about the music, it's about the fans, the people that got them this far. In his mind, he sees Brendon smiling and happy, excitedly telling him that he and Dallon are actually going to do 'the whole dating thing' and he's so happy for him. But where does that leave him? He turns that sadness, that jealousy and anger into energy as he watches Josh dart on stage from the opposite side, his own energy reflecting his state of mind. With all the might in his body, he's grabbing the microphone, power like electricity flowing through his veins. The lights, the fans, the sounds, it all felt like it was melting to the forefront of his brain. Tyler had never felt more alive than now, words pouring from his mouth and his eyes flashing with power or insanity, either way, the pure emotion that he was turning into energy, flowing like silk strands. His body couldn't stop, wouldn't stop; almost as if it was the only thing stopping him from giving up, from bursting into tears. 

The brunet hears his name being shouted, hears Josh's name, hears "I love you's" and "Who are you's?" from the mixture of sound coming from the fans, but there's no difference. His hands shake, his body vibrates, and the guys who ask who they are will remember them, he will make sure of that. When he launches himself into the crowd, he doesn't care if he falls, doesn't care if he hurts himself, it's the last night of tour anyway so it's not like it will inconvenience him or them in anyway, a coma would be a welcome change anyway. When he finds his footing on the stage again, after feeling hands grab his like they're holding on for dear life, he meets Josh's eyes. For a moment he thinks he's never seen eyes so worried, so terrified, and reminds himself that Josh knows him, knows his energy levels and knows how he reacts in certain situations. He knows when he's not _himself_. 

He knows when he's close to giving up again.

\--

"You need to talk to me,"  
"I need to do nothing Josh,"

They're getting stared at as they bicker backwards and forth, but Tyler has no care whilst adrenaline pumps through his nerves, making him tremble ever so slightly, to make it worse he cracks open a can of Monster Energy, just to feel some more. It feels like getting high, and not the simple sort that's just as easy as a spliff, no, the sort that reminds him of earlier years where it was mostly needles and pills. He diminishes the craving because he knows that's not something he wants to go back to, but the way he shakes is awfully reminiscent of that. "Look at you Ty, you need to talk to me, there's clearly something wrong," The younger doesn't know how sickly pale he's gone, can't see the prominent bags under his eyes or the red rings around them; he doesn't notice how fast his heart is racing or the slight stumble as he walks. "Tyler please stop running away..." it's the last thing he hears as his head spins and he collapses. 

He doesn't completely black out, he hears bits and pieces, feels strong arms around his frail and skinny body. "Adrenaline's too high...sugar levels too high...he won't stop shaking..." He hears bits and pieces, sees Brendon's dark eyes and Josh's scared expression. "Get him to bed," That was definitely Patrick. Great, last night of tour and he managed to fuck up that one. Maybe they should've dropped him when he dived out into the crowd.

"I'm...fine," His words slur as his vision clears out slowly, breathing deeply. "Please just go, I can get myself...there," He coughs and it tastes metallic, causing him too sigh deeply. The soft hazel eyes steam up with tears, his head turns to block out how embarrassed he feels; ignoring the way his stomach lurches as he manages to get himself upright and on his feet shakily. "I just want to be alone," There's too many people, too many people watching suddenly, he can see worry and pity in their eyes. It's not what he wants. It's not what he wants. He steps back, meeting the warmth of his best friend, whose expression of open love and care hurts him more than the sympathy in Patrick's or the downright fear in Brendon's. "Please," Tyler wants to sound strong when he talks, wants to sound firm and demanding, instead it comes out a whimper as he can no longer hold back the tears; he's no longer sure what he's even asking for. Acceptance? A new life? To be away from these people? For Josh to love him too?

"Ok," Is Josh's answer, who seems to know what he's asking for more than himself because the firm grip he had come to know and love, that felt like safety and home, wrapped around him, forcing his face into the shoulder of his best friend. **_His_** best friend. Fuck, what was he thinking, of course Josh loved him, they were best friends, if anyone loved him unconditionally it was Joshua Dun. A sigh escapes him followed by a sniffle as he returns the hug. Everyone and everything else seemed to magically leave him alone in the midst of his anxiety, of his fears, there was now this crazy young man that he loved no matter what. "You're going to be ok Ty, it's all going to be ok, but you do need to tell me what's going on," The elder looks up at him with the most certain understanding he'd ever seen; he'd been so focused on his demons that sometimes he forgot that Josh had his own, and that he knew and experienced things just as bad as Tyler did. 

\--

"I just took all that anger, and sadness, and threw it on stage," He muttered, when they're alone, "That's why I just let myself rip out there, I didn't care, I didn't care if I got hurt, I didn't care if I exhausted myself, I barely cared if I _died_ ," He can feels his friend shift next to him, eyes soft and understanding. "I just wanted that right there to be the last night of my life, not just this tour, and no one else noticed or care, they just saw my energy, not the sadness behind it," For a moment the full grown man looks like a teenager again, scared and lost and clawing at the seams in desperation to rip himself to shreds. "It felt like the same high I used to feel all those years ago, it felt the same and that was scary, knowing that I could push myself that far by myself,"

"Please don't do that to yourself," The drummer sighed, wiping the sweat from his face "Was there a reason or was it just one of those days?" There's a testing look in his eyes that reminds Tyler that Josh knows him better than anyone, and that lying to him would serve no help to the situation whatsoever. He'd never really needed a therapist, over the years Josh and Tyler had learned to understand one another so they could build each other up and help when one was low or the other was fragile. Their own personal medication. 

"Yeah there was a reason," He wants to vague, he doesn't want to tell Josh that the reason he had felt so low was because of him, indirectly, he doesn't want Josh to feel at fault because he's everything that had been keeping him holding on up until now. It's not Josh's fault that his will to live seemed to be tied directly with other people, it's not his fault that the only person he really loves and cares about is the drummer, and he doesn't want him to feel to blame because he isn't entirely sure he wants to be alive. It was never Josh's fault. It's not even really his fault, he knows this too. At the end of the day sometimes things happen and there's no real explanation. But he knows he loves this strange caramel eyed boy with wild hair and crooked smile, he knows he can't live without him and that's not even remotely healthy. But a reason to live is better than no reason to live no matter what it is. Romantically, he wants Josh, platonically, he loves him. "I just...I love you and I can't take that back, but it's not a platonic sort of love anymore," 

He watches the brunet's eyes widen and eyebrows raise as if the solid confirmation permanently stung with no right or wrong way to react. "Ok," is all that comes out of his mouth, followed by a deep sigh. "Tyler I don't think that's a good idea, and you know why," He does, he really does, but he doesn't care. "I can't make you happy and..." It's all he takes for him to rest his hand on his best friend's shoulder to silence him. 

"You can make me happy, you do make me happy, without you I'd probably be overdose on heroin somewhere in Ohio, or with a noose wrapped around my neck, Josh sex has nothing to do with how I feel, you could make me the happiest man on Earth if all we did every day is sit in each other's company, romance and sex are two different things to me," The singer's view on sex had become so warped that he didn't even view it as the same thing as being in a relationship; he didn't care if that wasn't something he could have because he's not even sure he wants it from Josh. Sex to him now was getting high and getting drunk and forgetting 2/3rd's of it and what the person he did it with looked like. It wasn't poetic or beautiful, it was something that made him feel for a few hours. Josh made him feel so much just by smiling at him. "Please just try it, don't throw away what we could have for an assumption of what I want," The elder man looked ready to stand up and walk away, as if too much was happening at once. 

"It's not that I don't want a relationship," He admits finally "You like sex and I don't and both of us need to be happy in this relationship,"

"Being with you will make me happy,"

But his words are lost with the slamming of the door. 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so there's two chapter left of this story. It's a very will they end up together, will they not situation cause I haven't even decided yet woo.


	19. Truce

 

> _"The sun will rise,_
> 
> _and we will try again,_
> 
> _stay alive, stay alive for me,_

* * *

The sun hurts. It's light is blinding and it bangs against Tyler's eyelids like pain itself was invented for this morning and this morning only. Of course it has nothing on the unending pounding on his chest as he cast his gaze through the ajar door to where he could hear his bandmate talking lazily down the phone. Josh sounded just as drained as he felt, and he couldn't help feel it was his own fault; of course it was, wasn't it always? The singer drags one foot and then other to the ground, his entire being aching and protesting, what he remembers of the night before consisted mostly of tears. Even now he was still tired from crying, and the way his essence screamed against being alive like there was nothing else he wished for but death. He can already see the other's sighing and shaking their heads, asking if he's alright for etiquette if nothing else. By now surely they couldn't wait to get rid of him, his pity parade and everything it entailed; his tantrums and sadness and 2AM drinking sessions, he even ruined the last night for them all. At least, out of this entire tour, Brendon and Dallon had gotten their own way, Lord knows they deserve it more than anyone. 

He drags his body from it's temporary tomb, ignoring his joints and how they scream in agony. Tyler finds that his eyelids are heavier than the night before, probably as a result from the energetic high he'd been on, as every fibre of his body seemed tired despite the hours of sleep he'd rolled himself into the previous night. The click off the phone and sigh that echoed to his ears told him to no end how uncomfortable his best friend was feeling in his presence, as he stepped into the room, to see the other staring blankly at the blackened phone screen, he sees the drummer fidget as if unsure how to act. His heart clenches. When they were younger they were so happy around each other,  like the world was their oyster as long as they had each other, these invisible chains that separated them were to be their demise. He could feel it. Weakly, as if unable to produce any strong reasoning, he looks over to the other, only to feel his eyes steam up. Stay alive, he said, stay alive for me. He said it at every concert, he congratulated every attendee for making it this far. But perhaps it was time for he himself, to pull the plug. What was the point in telling others to stay alive, if he himself had nothing to live for?

"Tyler,"

The silence echoes, it's quiet and gentle, so why does it feel like a thousand tiny knives in his ears? Why does it feel like he's giving up? Why does it feel like his head is underwater with weights around his ankles? Why does he feel so fucking empty? His eyes are soft. His words aren't there. Those words that saved lives, those words that kept people fighting every day. "Stay alive," he said. What a liar. What an impersonator of a man that cares. "Stay alive," Like those were words he had the right to speak, that he would ask people to stay alive for him. Why? When he couldn't even stay alive for himself. "Tyler," That's his name, he knows that voice, he knows that light, but this time the light at the far end of the tunnel is just the train. He's done. He's finished tip-toeing around what he wants. It's not drugs or prescriptions, it's not lyrics or fans or fame. He just wants to give in. To end the way his mind works, to stop the cogs from turning to- "Tyler," For Josh to turn around and hold his hand and say it didn't matter. That this wasn't all his fault. "Tyler," Josh "Tyler," Josh, "TYLER,"

"Josh,"

And it's there, in the way that his voice cracks and the glass in his hand slips and smashes to the floor. In the way that his soft cocoa eyes leak tears that he can't hold in anymore even though he knows he should. A single syllable, four letters that make up two different words that mean the same thing when he speaks them. Like every time, he can feel his hand on his arm and his eyes on his own. "Josh," He whispers, but this time it sounds like a whisper "I don't think I can do this anymore," It's the honesty on his face and the innocence in his eyes as he feels his friend take him into his arms. He breaks. Tyler collapses into his best friend's arms like the foundation of his being is just pulled away, sinking against him for all it's worth. "I love you, I love you and I can't do this," The person who stood on the stage the night before was gone, that image of power and strength stripped away to the man that had been battling his entire life. 

"Stay alive," It's those damn words again and again and he wishes he hadn't written that fucking song because he has to live by his own words, his own agony. His fear of the night and being alone coming back to haunt him. He never thought he'd make it this far. "Stay alive for me," Josh's arms tighten around him "I love you too," He snaps, every inch of his body collapses against the other because he just can't take it, he can't take anymore of this running around and 'I'm not good enough for you'. It's killing him. Tyler knew he needed to know straight out, he needed the truth and whatever it was he could handle it (He really couldn't). 

"Do you love me like a friend? Or do you love me like a lover?" He means it in the literal sense, a lover, someone to hold his hand and sing cheesy songs too, someone to grow old with and see the world with, someone to hold at night and lay his head on when he's exhausted. Someone to help him through the dark times so that he can repay the favor; someone to live with, someone to live for. All these things, they were for lovers, people in love. Not one thing was about how fast they could mess up the sheets (for anything other than a pillow fort), or how the sweat on their bodies could collect with the other's tongue. That was just sex, sex to Tyler wasn't love anymore, it was bruises and scratches and ways to feel alive. But Josh, Josh made him feel so alive, every time he hears the drums crash, every time a smile crosses his lips and a sound leaves his mouth, Tyler feels so damn _alive_. Because he's there. He's there and breathing and existing with this beautiful human being that has picked him up every time he's called it quits, every time he's turned to a stranger or a bottle or collapsed on the stage. Tyler owes him every thing, especially after the way he treated him. "I just want the truth, nothing more and nothing less, take sex out of the equation because I don't want that, I want you, I want to write songs with you and see the world with you, I was to hold you in my arms and watch movies with you, I want to cry into your shoulder at 3AM and tell you why I hate myself and help you build as a person, I don't want anything else,"His legs are shaking, he can feel it, he can feel his entire body ready to give out no matter what the answer is.

"I love you as I love you," Is all he says "I love you as a person, not a lover or a friend," He whispers gently. It's not an answer, it's a message but Tyler feels too tired to decipher it. Josh sighs and helps him sit down, watching the layers of his best friend strip away, leaving behind this vulnerable young man with crippling health and a lack of will to live. "I love you at 3AM when you're crying, I love you at 3PM when you're eating your weight in Hershey's, I love you at midday when you're just remembering there's an album deadline tomorrow and frantically looking around for your bass. and I love you at midnight when you're more alcohol than water," The drummer takes a second to realize that his thoughts are coming to life in Tyler's eyes, and smiles "I love you, and I want to hold you in the night and kiss your forehead when you're sad, I want to be your safety net and help you to love yourself until you can get there by yourself, I want to be there when your mental health acts up so I can remind you you're loved by so many,"

"Please," The lilt in his voice sounds like he's begging. "Don't base your decision off whether or not sex is on the table, because it's not, I don't want sex, not with you, not with anyone, I just want to feel alive and you do better than any dick or heroin could," Josh blinks, as if the realization is one he'd been aware of but not expected confirmation of. The sex 'addiction' had come in replacement of heroin. Instead of nights with the elder frantically trying to kill himself with needles he took to letting others make him feel the same pain and buzz. The same high. "Understand me, I love you and I always have, I want to grow old with you and maybe adopt a few kids when all this is over and we get ourselves cleaned up and die down a little, I want to see your face in the morning when you protest it's too early at 11AM, I want you, as my best friend, in a relationship,"

The drummer goes very quiet and sits very still for a moment, looking over at Tyler before breathing in and out slowly. "I want that too," The elder sighs and moves over to burrow his face in the other's neck. Arms around him and still, the way they used too when they were kids and too exhausted for the world. "I want that too," He repeats and a smile resounds between the two of them louder than words. The singer is still shaking, and his entire body still feels weak and drained, but he smiles, for possibly the first time in a good while. "Ok, ok," he mutters, "Ok we can do this, I believe in us,"  
  


"I believe in us,"

Tyler's still crying, but he's smiling through his tears. 

 

 

 


End file.
